


Light From The Shadows

by Myxini, SkyWrite



Category: Original Work
Genre: Belly Rubs, Friendship/Love, Multi, Queerplatonic Relationships, Stomach Ache, Stuffing, Urban Fantasy, Vomiting, emeto
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-20
Updated: 2019-07-12
Packaged: 2019-11-01 13:59:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 40,286
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17868587
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Myxini/pseuds/Myxini, https://archiveofourown.org/users/SkyWrite/pseuds/SkyWrite
Summary: An AU crossover in which the characters from Myxini's Ginger & Mint live in the world of SkyWrite's Micah and Elijah. A chance encounter brings the group together as they embark on a mission to free Bramley from the harsh dangers of gang life.Also, there is a lot of good food, tummy rubs, platonic cuddling, tummy rubs, awkward burgeoning romance, and tummy rubs.





	1. Chance Encounters

**Author's Note:**

> The Underground Marketplace is full of delicious and unfamiliar foods, which gets Micah separated from Elijah and in a little bit of trouble with his tummy. Luckily, he meets a few new friends who are happy to help him out….
> 
> Or – Kara sells a cake, Ryder forges a new partnership, and Grayson is a cat boy now.

“Here, Micah. This is the kind of pastry that I think you will like.”

Micah felt his mouth water as Elijah handed him one of the delicate desserts he’d just purchased. “Thanks, dude. This looks amazing!”

Elijah offered him a warm smile before beckoning for Micah to follow him further along the sparkling path that wound between bustling booths and stalls.

They had not been in the underground marketplace for long, and yet Micah was already enamored. He was mesmerized by glittering landscape, dotted with towering crystal spars that sprouted from the ground like a forest of brilliant stone. He was fascinated by the diversity of cultures. In most of the city, non-human races were relegated to the fringe of society, but this marketplace was full of avesian, feliken, and saurolin merchants proudly displaying their traditional wares. And if the big bowls of rockrat stew he and Elijah had just enjoyed were anything to go by, the food down here was unlike anything you could get on the surface. It all made Micah feel a warm glow of happiness that Elijah had allowed him to tag along on the errand that had brought him down into Central City’s illicit underbelly.

Micah took a small bite of pastry, then wolfed down three more from the parcel that Elijah had gotten to take with them. His tummy was already a little heavy from all the stew he’d eaten, but the exotic desserts were too amazing to eat just one. Each consisted of soft, flaky layers interspersed with cream and slivers of fruit that he could swear tasted like malted chocolate, but with something crisper, fresher about it. They were dusted with nutmeg and toasted with a magic flame.

Micah hiccuped faintly once he’d finished his last one. He was getting so  _full._  He wasn’t sure how much more he could eat; his tummy felt bloated with rich, unfamiliar foods that gave him a little bit of an ache, no matter how delicious they’d been. But he  _did_  want to keep trying things…

He had to stifle some more small belches before Elijah agreed to purchase a small container of his favorite snack food for Micah, and it was immensely worth it. The legumes were blackened with shavings from siltmeat, and they were so robust and powerfully flavored that Micah couldn’t help but go back for another couple of sweet pastries to balance out the taste. The combination of soft, sugary bites interspersed with stout pieces of the hearty snack were irresistible to the point that Micah didn’t realize that each breath he took was starting to twinge in his tummy, until a little cramp squeezed through his insides and he groaned, halting in his tracks behind Elijah who immediately turned around to face him, looking expectantly concerned.

“That’s it, I’m full.” Micah moaned helplessly, handing what was left of the snack mix back to Elijah, who pocketed the container as Micah wrapped his hands under the bulge of his  _very_ stuffed tummy and tried to massage away the ache for himself. “I think I need to sit down for a minute…”

“Alright, there is a clear ledge just off the side of this nearest row.” Elijah gestured to the set of booths closest to them. “While we are here, I actually could stand to drop off an errand for someone else, and I would prefer not to have you with me when I see them, because I do not entirely trust them. Would you sit down and wait for me? I should be right back.”

Micah sighed deeply. “Yeah, I can do that. Just be quick about it, ‘kay?”  
“Of course. Wait for me right here, try not to wander off.” Elijah patted his shoulder once, then turned away and disappeared into the crowd.

Micah’s attention was abruptly drawn back to his tummy when it gave a low, strained gurgle, and he echoed it with another slight groan, palming over the swell with one hand, and tried to rub little circles over the front of his sweater. It didn’t help as much as when Elijah did it, but he managed to push up a few of the burps he’d been holding in, and decided he’d walk around for another minute or two before sitting down. If he planted himself right now, he’d not be able to stop squirming under the weight of his stuffed belly.

The marketplace’s aisles were uneven but clearly arranged, so Micah walked the length of one, turned the corner to walk the next, and kept going like that for a while. As he moved deeper into the marketplace, the rows and stalls became less neatly-arranged, more jumbled, but also slightly bigger and more permanent-looking, like settlements instead of simple stores. The crystal spars began to tower higher, seeming less maintained, and he had to weave around them, stepping over one jutting over the path, ducking under another with a faint huff as he lifted a hand to steady his very full tummy. The cavern was narrowing too, and he began to see more tents and booths set against the walls, nestled under crystal beams and sheltering in slight overhangs.

He stopped when he found the end of the cavern, noticing that there was a dim tunnel leading away from the main area, big enough for a person to walk through comfortably. Well, big enough for most people. Elijah would probably have to duck. Maybe it led back to the surface, to another entry point somewhere else in the city?

Thinking of Elijah, Micah remembered with a jolt that his best friend had told him not to wander off, and he’d done exactly that. He turned and looked over his shoulder, but it was fairly easy to tell which way he’d come, and how to get back to the area where Elijah had asked him to wait. His tummy grumbled faintly and he tried to subtly fold a hand over it, frowning a bit. Maybe he felt a  _little_  better, having been able to pace for a while and work out some of the twinges from eating too much.

He’d just decided to turn around and make his way back when an incredible aroma reached his nose and he stopped where he stood, mouth instantly watering. Someone was baking something, and the malted, toasty smell was so good that Micah felt his feet begin to carry him in the direction it seemed to be coming from. He couldn’t just walk away after smelling something  _that_ amazing, laden with scents of wood fire and rich grain.

It was a little less bright here, at the edge of the cavern, the distant glow of magic and flame glinting off the crystals overhead. Micah found himself approaching a mid-sized stall, with a baking display out front, lit with cheerful little candles. There was a small tent portion attached, and now he could smell the scent of well-stewed meat. Peering past the flap of the small dwelling showed a large soup pot in the center of the space, over a low fire resting in a shallow dip.

Beyond the baking stall, Micah’s eyes widened as he spotted one of the bigger tents he’d seen that afternoon, set securely back against the cave wall and sheltered on both sides by huge crystals and even rough stone. Rich colors were woven into the fabric of the dwelling, deep reds and purples and golds, and the wares seemed to be different from most. Dried herbs hung in bundles from the awning, and open crates out front held a variety of strange-looking fruits that he’d never seen before.

Micah turned his attention back towards the rows of baked goods he’d come in search of, and he found his mouth watering again as he looked over the rich-looking cookies, cakes, and pastries. Whoever owned this place must be an incredible baker. He didn’t see anything he  _didn’t_  want to try.

He was so engrossed in trying to decide on just one that he jumped a little when the tent flap was pushed wide and a young saurolin woman came striding towards him, grinning in a welcoming, friendly way that he felt instantly at ease with. Her skin was dark, her eyes were warm, and beautiful golden-brown scales dotted her face and upper arms. He grinned right back at her and immediately blurted out a compliment even as she opened her mouth, presumably to ask him if there was anything she could help him with.

“Your stuff smells fucking amazing.” Micah practically groaned, digging in his pocket again for the ren pieces that Elijah had given him. He tried to subtly tug the corner of his coat over his tummy a little, hoping it wasn’t  _too_  obvious that he was already stuffed to the gills, but he was certain he could handle one of those little cakes, spread with something dense and creamy. “I was standing like—“ He jerked a thumb back over his shoulder, “—two aisles away? And I could smell it from all the way over there! Could I get one of these?” He pointed to the little row of cakes.

“Good choice.” The young woman grinned broadly as she opened the back of the pastry case. “These little strawberry cakes are one of my personal favorites. They’re not what you’re smelling though. You’re smelling my fresh-baked bread.”

“Oh.” Micah beamed again as he accepted the little cake, passing the few ren pieces over and sniffing appreciatively. “That’s some damn sweet-smelling bread. This looks amazing too though!” He switched the cake to his other hand and licked away the icing that had dripped down onto his fingers, his smile growing as notes of butter and vanilla filled his senses.

“If you like the smell, you’ll love the taste.” She plucked a golden roll out of a nearby basket with a paper napkin and held it out to him. “Came out of the oven only half an hour ago. On the house.”

Micah’s eyes brightened with delight and he opened his mouth to thank her, but as he reached for the roll, he had a split-second moment of hesitation. The simple, quick movement of lifting his hand sent a faint rumble through his tummy - he was so full already. He probably shouldn’t even eat the cake, let alone another big, delicious-looking roll, beautifully browned and still dusted with flour from being rolled out before baking.

But it would be rude to refuse, and he could just take a little nibble of the bread to see what the taste behind the amazing smell was. He could give the rest to Elijah; he was sure his best friend would love the freshly-baked bread.

“Wow, that’s hella sweet of you, thank you so much!” Micah felt his cheeks go a little pink as he grinned and accepted the extra treat, the tiniest bit bashful at the thoughtful gesture. The roll settled into his outstretched hand, still warm, light for its size but still with a respectable weight to it. Goddesses, and the smell washed over him again, and he had to swallow as his mouth newly watered. He could hardly believe plain bread could smell so  _good._

“Tell your friends about us!” The young woman winked at him before turning away to peer at something in her oven.

Micah left the area just in front of the stall, freeing up space for other customers, and looked around for a place to sit. He’d eat his cake and then get back up to go look for Elijah; he hadn’t been gone long, and if his best friend was really worried about him, he could always just call or message him. Maybe if Micah had stopped for a second longer to think, he would have remembered that Elijah told him to turn his cell off before coming underground.

He found a place off the main path with some low-growing crystals, not that far from the baker’s stall, and lowered himself comfortably down on one growing horizontally, just like a natural bench. His tummy cramped a little as he bent at the waist and he had to huff and lean back again to take the pressure off where the button of his jeans was digging against his middle. The twinge eased up a moment later and he smiled in relief, raising the little cake to his mouth and taking a huge bite without further ado.

The creamy icing had an unexpected and delicious tang to it, reminding Micah of lemon and filling the corners of his mouth. The soft strawberry cake underneath that he sank his teeth into surprised a little moan of pleasure out of him; it tasted so sweet, but incredibly fresh. Like real strawberries — not that artificially flavored boxed stuff you’d see in a grocery store. Memories of summer and thoughts of the farmers market near his elementary school peppered his thoughts as he took another bite and hummed happily around the taste.

Micah had finished the treat and was licking his fingers clean of icing when a gurgle curled through his tummy and made him groan. A low, steady ache began to pulse in the pit of his belly and he shifted his weight, grimacing, lifting a hand to rub at the swell under his sweater. The slight weight of his own hand brought the tiniest flicker of relief and he blew out a slow breath, deciding to give himself just a few minutes to rest before getting up and heading back in search of Elijah.

He looked down at the roll in his hands and sighed. It was still warm inside the napkin the woman had wrapped it in and its toasty aroma was still tugging at his thoughts. He already had a tummyache though, and a best friend he could give it to who would enjoy it just as much.

Micah rubbed one hand in a careful circle over the bulge of his stuffed tummy and folded back a corner of the napkin, lifting the roll just to take a taste. He’d just figure out what all the fuss was about.

The crust was thin and practically dissolved onto his tongue with a crispy, buttery taste. There was the slightest hint of a crunch as he bit down, and then his teeth found the fluffy, chewy inside, and it was  _heavenly_  — a sweet, malted grain taste filled his senses. The texture was incredible to chew, but didn’t last long before it seemed to melt away like a cloud, and he filled his mouth again, chasing after the taste and sense of delight. He thought of winter holidays and spring celebrations. It didn’t taste like anything he’d ever had before, and yet he couldn’t help but feel his spirits lifting.

The haze of happiness faded a little when his fingertips touched his lips and he realized he’d eaten the whole thing, the last bite disappearing into his mouth with a final decisive chew. The haze receded even further when a sudden sharp cramp sliced through his insides and Micah groaned aloud, stuffing the napkin down in his pocket before lifting both hands to cradle his tummy. The regret kept building with the ache and he bit his lip, leaning back as he tried to breathe evenly. He’d eaten too much…

He tried to rub away the feeling but the faint rumbles in his belly were growing louder and the ache was intensifying, throbbing into something hot and tight instead of the dull, barely-there pain from just moments before. Micah moaned again and laid back against the hard surface of the crystal behind him, trying to stretch out just the tiniest bit and ease the pressure. But his tummy seemed to be vehemently announcing its disapproval now that it had his proper attention and he whimpered when his insides squeezed, his fingers pressing down into his sides as he hugged his belly and tried to think around the ache. Oh it  _hurt;_  intermittent cramps gripped him every other breath and a sickly gurgle trickled through his stuffed tummy just before he had to stifle a burp, realizing unhappily that he’d either be miserable for the next few hours or Elijah would have to take him back to the surface and forego his errand to take care of him.

Micah hiccuped and groaned as the spasm seized his tummy, trying to blink back tears. He wanted Elijah but he knew he’d fucked up. His best friend had told him before bringing him down here that he needed to be careful, and he hadn’t listened. Now he had an awful tummyache and he maybe even felt the tiniest bit sick and he really wanted to go home. He needed to get to his feet and find his best friend, but when he tried to move, his belly cramped horribly again and he moaned and held it tighter and tried to breathe. He shouldn’t have eaten so much.

* * *

Not far away, the saurolin baker drummed her claws against the counter.

She’d just banked the fire in her oven. It had been a slow afternoon, and she wasn’t even sure the last batch of rolls she had made would sell. That was a shame – they were so much better fresh. At least she’d gotten to give one away to that sweet young human who’d stopped by earlier….

She stood up straighter, realizing that she could still see him. He was sitting on a low spar of crystal, far enough away to be out of earshot, but close enough that she could see the way he was cradling his belly, and the look of discomfort twisting his face.

“Ssshit,” she hissed, peering into her pastry case. Some of her cakes were traditional saurolin recipes, made with herbs and spices that didn’t agree with human stomachs. But it was definitely a strawberry cake missing from the case, and humans could digest strawberries, right…? Or was she getting that mixed up?

Glancing behind her to make sure the fire in her oven was doused, she grabbed her “Back Soon” sign from under the counter, hung it on its peg, and stepped out of the stall.

The closer she got to the young human, the more obvious it was that the poor thing was hurting. He was slumped back against the crystal, moaning gently as he clutched at the roundness of his tummy. His coat had fallen open, and the baker frowned as she realized just how round that tummy was. She’d noticed his sweater straining a little when she’d seen him earlier, but between that and his cute round cheeks, she’d just assumed he was a little chubby. Now she could see that his body actually looked quite athletic, and his belly didn’t look soft, it looked taut and swollen.

Had he… eaten too much?  _Here?_

“Hey,” she said, reaching out and placing a gentle hand on his shoulder. She caught the sound of his tummy gurgling as he started at the touch. “You okay?”

He blinked up at her, peering through his blond curls. He looked dazed for the briefest of moments, then recognition flitted across his face and he flushed pink with obvious embarrassment. He seemed to try to cover more of his tummy with his hands as it rumbled faintly again, as if he thought he could hide it.

“Hey,” he squeaked back. “Long time no see. Uh… I’ll live.” He suddenly blushed even deeper and ducked his head, hiding his eyes behind his fluffy hair, mumbling out in a hurried tone, “I’m just really fucking dumb by the way, it wasn’t anything to do with your stuff. Actually it was  _really_ amazing. I’ve never–” his voiced squeezed off with a sharp hiccup and he moaned, hunching forward a little, holding his middle. He finished with a low whimper, “–tasted anything like it.”

The poor thing had really done a number on himself. She tried to hide how concerned she was for his sake. “Thanks, kid. What’s your name?”

“I’m –  _hic_  – I’m Micah.”

“Nice to meet you, Micah.” She spoke gently, hoping to put him at ease. “My name’s Kara.”

He offered her a pained, crooked smile before dropping his gaze again. “Your name’s really pretty.”

Oh, he was such a sweetheart. She bit her lip, wondering how he’d gotten down here. It was so obvious he didn’t belong. No one who knew anything about how the Underground worked would ever dare sit around in obvious pain. At best, it made you easy pickings for the nearest thief or the guy you pissed off at the bar the week before. At worst, it could get you targeted, kidnapped, trafficked.

Kara knew she had to get him out of sight before the wrong type of person noticed him.

“Look, you shouldn’t be out here right now,” she told him gently. “Come with me. I know someone who can help you.”

Kara saw a flicker of hesitation in his eyes, and felt almost relieved. It was shady as fuck for her to try to spirit him away with that little explanation. The poor boy did have some sense.

“I um… I need to wait somewhere my friend can find me when he comes looking.” Micah fidgeted, something that could only be shame coloring his face. “I didn’t mean to wander off but he’ll be looking when I don’t show back up where I was s’posed to.”

“Your friend? Is he nearby?”

“Yeah, he’s–” Micah winced and rubbed uneasily at his tummy when it interrupted him with a strained gurgle “–back the other way from here. He asked me to wait over near where the well is.”

Kara thought fast. “Hmm, okay. Tell you what – let me take you somewhere safe, and I’ll come back out and find him for you. Okay? What does he look like?”

“He’s hella tall. Long black hair he wears in a ponytail, and he’s got a beard. He should be easy to spot.” Micah gave Kara a wide-eyed look of gratitude. “Where are we going?”

Oh, it was a damn lucky thing  _she’d_  found him first, not some predatory lowlife who would’ve taken advantage of the trust in those big eyes. “Did you see the big tent over by my stall?”

Micah squirmed a little before lifting his head, peering around Kara towards the tent. “Yeah, sure did.”

“It belongs to a friend of mine. He can help, give you a place to lie down.” The look of longing that crossed Micah’s pained face at the words “lie down” told Kara she didn’t need to convince him any further. “Sounds good, right? Let’s go.”

Getting him upright was a challenge. He moaned pitifully with the effort of moving, and he could only stand hunched over, both hands clutching his bloated belly. Kara put a careful hand on his shoulder and helped him limp along, steering him towards the tent.

* * *

It was a relief the tent was close, but Micah could feel his cheeks burning with embarrassment every step of the way, not to mention the way his tummy kept churning, protesting the movement and begging him to sit back down. He tried to take deep, even breaths, but every other one caught on his lips as he fought back little whimpers and moans. He found it helped a little to support his swollen belly with both hands even though that probably just made it even more obvious how much he’d overeaten. But the aching in his tummy was just enough more pressing than the feeling of mortification that he found himself tucking his palms under the swell and holding gingerly as they walked.

When the saurolin baker’s scaled hand settled on his shoulder, Micah felt a bashful smile tug at his lips and grateful tears prick at his eyes, but he swallowed them back before they could make him look even more pitiful. It was embarrassing as fuck that she had just happened to be the one to find him, after he’d eagerly picked up treats at her stall and gone off to heedlessly scarf them down. He couldn’t help wondering what she must think of him, but she was so kind and her hand was so gentle. And she’d even offered to go out and look for Elijah for him, which Micah very much doubted he’d have managed in his current state. Maybe even if she thought he was stupid, it wasn’t in a mean way.

When they reached the tent, Kara took him right past the wares, pushing back a long flap of dense, woven cloth and ushering him inside. Micah had half a second to wonder what kept people from just walking up and taking stuff from the front without paying for it, then they’d stepped into the darkened interior, lit by much softer floating lights and scattered candles. Outside, the crystals had been so bright, reflecting back the brilliance of the basin fires lining the walls of the cavern, and the relative dimness in the tent was welcoming and even reassuring.

Micah found himself blinking as his eyes adjusted and he took in the space inside. The area was comfortable-looking, even plush, with soft, low seats and cushions arranged in one corner, a little workspace with a desk and set of shelves to the other side. A man with dark skin and darker hair sat there, studiously working away at the stack of papers beneath his hands. He was dressed well but not in a flashy way, and even before he looked up, Micah felt that his eyes looked kind. The back of the tent was pressed up right against the wall of the cavern, except there was an obvious door there, between drapes of fabric. Was there more space behind it, carved out of the very stone?

“Hey Ryder? You got a minute?”

Beside Micah, Kara spoke up, and the man behind the desk lifted his head, his gaze focusing on the two of them in surprise. Micah grimaced as his tummy picked that moment to protest, rumbling against his hands as he held it tighter and tried not to whimper at the sharp, twisting cramp that squeezed through his insides.

The man – Ryder, Kara had said – had swiftly risen from his desk and now was coming towards them, brow drawn in pronounced concern. “Is someone hurt?” His gaze fell on Micah’s middle and the swell of the tummy he was clutching, and he frowned further. Micah felt his face heat with another deep flush.

Kara laughed, a cheerful sound that made him feel a tiny bit better. “Oh, he’ll be alright. But I think he could use your help.”

The man’s brow lifted in sudden understanding, then his expression flooded with wry sympathy and Micah ducked his head a little to hide his pink face, though inwardly he felt relieved and even comforted in a kind of amusing way when Ryder’s next words were, “Kara, what did you do to this poor boy?”

So it wasn’t just  _him_ , clearly. Maybe Kara’s baking was so incredibly delicious that she made a habit of tempting people with irresistible treats and then lugging them to this tent with tummyaches.

“Nothing!” Kara grinned and held up her hands. “I only gave him a tiny cake and a bit of bread! I have no idea what else he’s got in there.”

Micah’s thoughts flashed back to everything he’d eaten and he winced with regret, the words escaping before he could stop himself, “Big thing of stew. With rockrats? And some kind of snack food with stuff that was kinda like peanuts but wasn’t peanuts, and silt skink meat? And uh… these little—“ He held one hand up, fingers a few inches apart, “—pastries made out of a fruit that tasted like chocolate. Six of them.” He was starting to realize just how silly he sounded and how utterly absurd he must look, standing there listing what was inside his aching tummy, and abruptly stopped, face flaming red. He decided not to mention the sandwich he’d eaten before even coming down to the marketplace to begin with.

“Yikes. No wonder you look like you’re gonna explode.” Kara shot him a worried glance. To Ryder, she added, “I just thought I shouldn’t leave him out in the open where  _anyone_  could see him.”

“Wise of you.”

Micah rubbed at the expanse of his tummy with a faint grimace when Kara mentioned exploding, wondering if he could just sink through the floor, then Ryder moved towards him encouragingly, one hand out and gesturing towards a low, comfortable-looking seat. “Come now, let’s get you sitting down. Do you think you can manage some tea?”

A tense hiccup interrupted Micah’s first attempt to answer, and he groaned softly as he followed the gesture and finally sank down, cradling his tummy again with both hands and trying to think around how much it hurt and how miserable he felt. The fullness pushed out from under his ribs, pressing heavily against his hands and rumbling inside him with a pulsing tightness and he just couldn’t imagine getting anything else down, at least not at that moment. He was so full and even a few mouthfuls of tea seemed like too much.

“No thank you.” He mumbled softly, squeezing his eyes shut and leaning back a little, trying to take some of the pressure off his tummy. It was such a relief to sit down and relax, but he squirmed as another gurgle worked its way through everything he’d stuffed down. It had been a long time since he’d dealt with a tummyache this bad on his own, or at least, with only kind strangers nearby. He bit his lip as he realized how much he wanted Elijah.

“He’s called Micah,” he overheard Kara saying softly, somewhere nearby. And then, more loudly: “Hey Micah? I’m gonna go find your friend now, okay?”

Micah opened his mouth to respond, but just then something warm settled onto his tummy, and it felt so nice that his words turned into a soft groan. He opened his eyes to see Ryder’s face, smiling at him knowingly.

“Better?” he asked, and Micah nodded, unable to keep from giving a small smile back, sheepishly and gratefully. He tucked his hands around the hot water bottle to press its soothing warmth even closer to the ache in his middle, and took in a slow, deep breath, finally able to relax just a little.

He heard the rustle of the tent flap being pushed aside and called out quietly, hoping Kara would hear him in time.

“His name’s Elijah!” He felt his tummy jolt with another low hiccup for the trouble and he grunted faintly, curling up even more around the warm compress and closing his eyes again. As an afterthought he mumbled, more to himself than anything, “And he’s gonna be real upset with me…”

* * *

“Elijah….” Kara repeated the name softly to herself as she made her way through the marketplace, glancing at faces as she passed. “Tall… black hair… ponytail… beard… ah, that’s gotta be him…!”

Micah had been right that he wasn’t hard to spot. The man was well over six feet tall, and broad as a doorframe. Plus, she found him pacing between rows of stalls like a caged tiger, scanning the aisles with the definite air of someone looking for something.

“Hey!” She jogged up to him, trying to get his attention. “Excuse me! Are you Elijah?”

He whipped around to face her. She saw the scars crossing his face and felt a little prick of apprehension. This guy was totally in a gang. Which wasn’t  _strange_ , really, not down here – but Micah’s innocence and kindness had made her think that maybe his friend was something like her – not a criminal or a vigilante, but just an ordinary person trying to make their way in a world that was a little more dangerous, but much, much freer than any life that could be had up on the surface.

She flashed her friendliest smile, trying not to flinch at the intensity of his blue-eyed stare. “I met your friend – Micah? He’s in a little bit of trouble and I think he’d really like to see you right now.”

The cold burst of steel and fire that flashed in Elijah’s eyes made her backtrack hastily.

“Oh, don’t worry! He’s totally fine! My friend is looking after him. I can take you to him right now.”

There was a long moment of silence. Then Elijah’s brow drew suspiciously and he came closer, muscles tensing, though he didn’t make any sudden moves.

“What does he look like?” He hissed, gaze prodding, expectant.

Kara blinked. “Pardon?”

“Micah.” Elijah snapped, tone low and furious. “What does he look like? Describe him to me.”

“Uh–” Kara hid her nervousness with another smile. “Cute and cheerful? Fluffy hair? Wearing a green sweater?”

A tightening in his eyes was the only change in Elijah’s expression, though his hands curled quietly into fists.

“I suppose I will be following you, then.” His voice was cold and he looked at Kara through narrowed eyes, but he stood patiently and inclined his head with his words before falling silent.

“Great, cool, uh – this way, then!” Kara turned the lead the way, wincing slightly. She was pretty sure she’d accidentally made this very big, possibly scary gang man think she’d harmed his friend. She was no expert on Underground politicking, but she was smart enough to know that had been a bad move.

Why had a big scary gang man brought someone as sweet and clueless as Micah down here anyway? That was the real mystery. Maybe, she thought with a jolt, Micah was being taken advantage of, and she shouldn’t be facilitating this reunion at all. But then again, he’d been very certain that this Elijah was his friend….

Or… maybe they were in cahoots! Maybe Micah was only  _pretending_  to be innocent, and she’d left Ryder to be robbed by a hardened criminal with big sweet eyes and a penchant for acting.

Or maybe she was just being paranoid. Hard to know, sometimes.

Kara chatted to fill the silence as they made their way back to the tent, trying to communicate in her small talk that she was no threat: “Funny story how I met your friend. He bought a cake from my stall. I’m a baker, you know, it’s the family business, generations back. My whole family went underground in my grandparents’ time, just to escape the way folks like us have got to live up there. My parents run a bigger stall over below the inner city, mine is just a little offshoot of their business. See how I do on my own. Someday I want to really break off, start my own thing, all focused on bread. Sweets and pastries are okay, but bread is my real passion. That’s why it’s so funny your friend bought one of my cakes, you know?”

Even as she poured out her life story, Elijah was steadfastly silent. It was almost more intimidating than if he’d been shouting and blustering. Kara wondered what was going through his head. Not a dozen different ways to disembowel a saurolin, she hoped.

* * *

As they walked, Elijah tried to focus on keeping his breathing deep and even, keeping his movements natural and unhurried. The girl chatted aimlessly, presumably to fill the silence, and he gritted his teeth, wondering if she was as oblivious as she sounded or if she was trying to sneak her way around his guard. Whoever had taken Micah would not be nearly this obtuse, he was sure of it.

She did not look like a threat. But underestimating an opponent could be a fatal mistake. She was heavier-set and her shoulders and back looked reasonably strong; if her story about being a baker was true, it would make sense that the physical labor of moving bags of flour and lifting baking trays would give her a slight edge of strength in that regard. As long as she wasn’t hiding any weapons however, Elijah was confident he could overpower her if it came to it. Then again she didn’t necessarily need to be hiding any weapons. Saurolins could easily use their claws to blind an antagonizer.

Elijah felt his heart clenching as he tried to push out thoughts of Micah again. He struggled to even his breathing, his fingernails digging into his palms.  _Micah._  Bringing him down here had been a mistake. Was Micah scared? Was he hurt? Had he been dragged away, crying for help? Or had he been led away by this same, unassuming young woman with the friendly smile?

Elijah glanced to the side towards her as she cheerfully rambled on about sweets and bread, then quickly averted his gaze again before she could notice. He swallowed hard. If it wasn’t an act — if she was as blissfully ignorant as she seemed — he wished they had met under different circumstances. There was a warmth in her eyes he wasn’t used to seeing Underground.

 _Micah_. What did they want? Whoever had taken him, what could they possibly want?

What wouldn’t Elijah give?

They reached a looming tent. The wares out front indicated this was a stall that frequently sold to magicians, and Elijah felt his heart rate speed again. There must be rune traps everywhere. Micah might have followed the kidnapper completely entranced by a spell of some sort. Who was behind this? Was this just an opportunist or was this some dark, sinister plot by an enemy he already knew?

The girl pushed aside the tent flap and Elijah followed her carefully, ducking his head to fit inside. She moved away from the entrance and from him and he blinked, adjusting to the dimness, preparing for the worst.

“Hey El.”

 _Micah._  Elijah’s gaze snapped to the back of the tent, and he’d taken a step towards his best friend before he halted, stopped himself, a faint gasp leaving his lips before he remembered to clamp down. Micah was curled up, obviously in pain, but was looking towards him hopefully, nervously. Had they threatened him not to move?

Who was it?  _Who was it?_

“So you’re the friend.”

Elijah jerked his head to the side, eyes flashing over to the man sitting opposite Micah. The man’s expression was cautious but he was clearly attempting to appear non-confrontational, shoulders relaxed and body language calm. He was stout and looked strong, he’d be difficult to throw off-balance in a fight. If he had any knives hidden at his waist, his hands were positioned to grab them quickly.

No one stood in the middle of the tent, though. Elijah had a clear path to Micah. He took a careful step, then another, then froze.  _Traps._  Where were the traps?

His gaze darted to the ceiling as he scanned frantically for runes. Would they be visible? Or would they be hidden, etched into stone and crystal and covered up by cloth?

His hands began to shake. What did they  _want_  from him? Why had they taken Micah? How could he get his best friend out and safe? How could he protect him when—?

“Elijah?”

Across the tent, a look of worried confusion had pinched Micah’s face. He was sitting up a little more, and when Elijah’s gaze flickered back to him, he shifted further, uncurling and leaning forward as if he’d get up and come towards him. But then Micah’s expression twisted with pain and he moaned pitifully, splaying one of his hands over the front of his belly, which was still swollen with all the snacks he’d eaten earlier. Some dissonant part of Elijah’s thoughts pointed out how he probably should have encouraged Micah to stop a bit earlier than he had. In Micah’s other hand, there was—

Elijah’s mouth suddenly went dry and he felt himself tensing, mind reeling with confusion. Micah was holding a hot water bottle over his stomach. Even across the tent, Elijah’s sharp hearing caught the faintest hint of a gurgle as his best friend winced again, curling back up around the heat pack and looking towards him pleadingly.

The world seemed to grind to a halt as everything fell into place.

No one who wished Micah harm would go to the trouble of giving him a hot water bottle for a stomachache.

Out of habit, out of instinct, Elijah glanced to both sides again, once towards the girl, once towards the man, then moved, striding towards Micah with purpose and relief and desperation. His heart was a mix of sudden, fierce irritation with Micah himself, tempered by his concern for his best friend’s clearly aching tummy, and total bewilderment, relief so intense it make him shake and tremble.

He crossed the tent, leaned down, and Micah squirmed a little, mumbling out, “El, what—“

 _“Shhh.”_  Elijah shushed him instantly, a spark of irritation making its way through, and if Micah looked a little hurt and sheepish, he buried himself in the arms that reached for him in relief when it became obvious a moment later that Elijah was gathering him up into a fierce embrace.

“Oh—” The strangled word slipped through Elijah’s teeth as he clenched them, one hand lifting to cradle the back of Micah’s head to his shoulder, his arms holding his best friend so tightly, his eyes stinging. Micah hiccuped painfully even as he nestled into the hold and Elijah sighed, pushing away his still-fading fear and pique so he could sink down onto the low seat, pulling Micah onto his lap and holding him against his chest. He tucked his hand over the swell of Micah’s belly, feeling it grumble beneath his palm as he began rubbing firm but soothing circles with the pads of his fingers, working against the cramps he could feel, massaging gentle pressure into the tightness of Micah’s sides.

Micah groaned in relief, turning his cheek into Elijah’s collarbone, snugging even closer and going limp, and Elijah shuddered once, tucking his chin over Micah’s curls, eyes squeezing shut as his heart raced with the fleeting thought of everything that  _could_  have happened.

When he opened his eyes again, his gaze traveled to the girl first, lingering on her with exhausted warmth before he turned his attention back to the man sitting nearby. He tried to find his voice, tried to make sense of the confusion swimming through his mind, but in the end, all he managed was a single, dumbfounded statement.

“I don’t understand.” Elijah half-whispered, half-gasped, cradling Micah closer, as if he could draw his best friend into his heart. Micah squirmed against him and murmured something unintelligible and Elijah rubbed another soothing pattern over his belly, before his eyes traveled back to the man who’d helped his best friend.

“I don’t understand.” He repeated, helplessly. But there was depthless gratitude in his suddenly soft and earnest face.

The strange man looked amused. “I take it you lost track of him?”

Elijah snorted faintly. “I instructed him to wait for me in a safe location.” He tilted his chin down and looked into Micah’s abruptly nervous eyes with a sharp glance. “He did not listen to me, evidently.”

Micah bit his lip and took a breath as if to defend himself, but then his belly gurgled and he shut his eyes and moaned, and Elijah sighed once more, smoothing another gentle circle over his best friend’s swollen stomach. He bent his head briefly to whisper in Micah’s ear, “Shh, we can talk about it later.”

“I imagine there’s many new things for a surfacer to look at in the marketplace. Many new things to taste, too.” The man suddenly stood, going over to a small table that held a stack of mugs and a kettle that had started thrumming. “Can I interest you in some tea? Your poor friend isn’t in any state to drink anything, but I boiled water anyway.”

At first, Elijah thought to accept, but even as his lips parted, he hesitated. A shameful, frightened place inside his heart needled at him, telling him that this could all  _still_  be an act and he had let his guard down too soon. Micah was already more or less incapacitated. If these people were somehow connected to someone with malevolent intentions, they had very much succeeded in luring Elijah into their grasp, and now, were offering him tea, that he had not seen prepared…

He didn’t want to think that way. But the risk wasn’t worth settling for optimism.

Elijah let his gaze fall apologetically and shook his head. “I appreciate the gesture, but no thank you.”

The man nodded, seeming to understand. “I hope you don’t mind if I have some myself,” he said, dropping a tea bag into a mug and filling it. “Kara? Tea?”

The saurolin girl, who was hovering near the edge of the room, shook her head. “No thanks.”

“Would you go and ask Grayson if he wants any? He’s in the back. Check on his progress with the new inventory while you’re there, would you? He’s been a little… distractible lately.”

Kara nodded and vanished into a nondescript door cut into the stone wall.

The man carried his teacup back to his seat and fixed Elijah with a look of friendly interest. “Now. Your name is Elijah, isn’t it? Which gang do you belong to, Elijah?”

Elijah blinked and looked away, his gaze settling back on Micah’s flushed face and closed eyes. His best friend was breathing slowly but a little less haltingly than earlier, and under Elijah’s careful ministrations, he was relaxing even further, half-drowsing against his chest.

Elijah thought carefully. This tent, the wares outside, the position in the cavern spoke to the nature of someone who mostly kept to themselves, perhaps building a small but loyal clientele in the magician community, which would bring in a respectable living. Elijah could not see any significant scarring on the man’s hands or arms, and though he looked knowledgeable and watchful, he didn’t have the tenseness about him that someone in the gangs carried at all times.

“What interest would a man such as yourself have in the gangs?” Elijah questioned, instead of answering, ruffling Micah’s curls gently when his best friend made a little sound as he massaged his thumb into his side. “I find myself doubtful that you are involved with them directly.”

“True enough. Though I’m sure you know as well as I that it’s hard to do much of anything down here without coming into contact with one gang or another.” The man took a careful sip from his tea. “I’m merely curious why an obviously streetwise man would bring….” he paused, his glance sliding to Micah and back “…a less experienced companion along on his business. Your friend doesn’t seem well-suited for your line of work. I certainly hope you’re not attempting to to initiate him.”

Elijah had been avoiding eye contact out of a creeping sense of guilt, but as the man finished, his eyes flashed up in shock and horror. He reflexively tightened his hold around Micah, earning a small grunt of discomfort, and he had to concentrate to ease up and return to soothingly rubbing at his best friend’s middle, relieved when Micah sighed and relaxed again.

“No. Stars above.  _No._ ” Elijah breathed hard. “Never. I know Micah from the University. I have reasons to be involved at the street level and he does not. I– he and I were caught by the heavy snowfall on the surface, and his classes were canceled. I was contacted by someone for an errand, and he asked to come along out of curiosity, and because the errand revolves around relatively harmless matters, I agreed.” Elijah’s breath caught and he leaned his forehead down against Micah’s head again, closing his eyes for a moment. “I should not have. I should have sent him home…”

When Elijah looked up again, the man’s face had changed. His smile was less polite, more sincere.

“Forgive me,” he said. “I’ve seen so many good-hearted young people chewed up and swallowed by the gangs that I’ve begun to fear the worst lurks behind every corner. This world has its beauties. I understand the desire to bring those close to you down into the safer parts of it.” He set down his teacup and stretched out a hand. “My name is Ryder.”

Elijah gently tilted Micah further into his chest so he could free one hand and reach out to clasp Ryder’s, giving a firm shake. The man’s grasp was warmer than he expected it to be, and Elijah battled to keep the confusion out of his expression as he drew back once more.

“Why would you help Micah?” He asked before he could think better of it. He let himself study the man’s face, searching for any signs of artifice or calculation, but he could find nothing but kindness and even… integrity, in Ryder’s eyes. “What is in it for you?”

Possibly a dangerous question, and normally Elijah would not ask it so blatantly, but if Kara and Ryder had wanted to use Micah as leverage for a favor, they would have been guaranteed far more success if they had kept him hostage, not settled him comfortably to rest with a heat compress. It baffled him; what could possibly be the motivation?

“Because it was the right thing to do.” Ryder’s expression grew wry. “Would you believe me if I told you that?”

Elijah felt his jaw tighten. “I hope you will forgive me if I find it difficult. Altruism is rather looked down on at the street level.”

In his arms, Micah stirred slightly, blinking up at him for a moment as Elijah pressed a soothing circle over the tightness he could feel just under his best friend’s ribs. He shushed him again gently and Micah closed his eyes once more and nestled back into his chest.

To Ryder, he continued, “Not that I am not grateful beyond measure… that of  _anyone_  here that Micah could have encountered, it would be someone who would go as far as to help him in a moment of crisis, but…”

Ryder was silent for a moment, turning his teacup around in his hands. Finally, he said, “You’re not the first person to ask what benefit I get from helping the powerless. Some have even accused me of having a savior complex. Perhaps that’s true. All I can say is that I saw your friend and I knew I could help.”

A shadow crossed Elijah’s face. “You speak very personably. Do you not fear that someday a well-intentioned misstep might lead someone conniving to your door? People can act.” Elijah suddenly had to fight a spark of humor. “Micah cannot.”

“Hey.” Micah grunted, only half-awake.

Elijah continued without acknowledging the interruption. “If someone caught onto your philosophies, it would not be difficult for a malicious individual to decide to make the attempt to take advantage of them.”

“Then I suppose that is the price I would have to pay,” said Ryder, in a tone so relaxed it was almost cheerful. “I must say I’m not too worried. My intuition hasn’t steered me wrong so far. Besides, I’m nothing but a simple shopkeeper. A shopkeeper who occasionally serves powerful magicians, and always serves them very well.”

Elijah felt a pang of worry at Ryder’s apparent indifference to such a risk and cleared his throat, trying to refocus. “That is… a noble sentiment, but it is not always sustainable. Connections and intuition can only go so far. Are you not worried that you might overstep your capabilities?”

“Hmm – I don’t lose sleep over it.” Ryder took a sip of tea with a smile that could almost be described as smug. Then his expression soured. “I’ll tell you what I  _do_  lose sleep over. I lose sleep over the faces I’ve seen around here. Pained, frightened, helpless. When I saw Micah, I had seen the look in his eyes a hundred times before. Perhaps in his case, the culprit was a few too many snacks rather than a knife wound, but it’s really all the same. When you see someone looking like that, you simply can’t stand idly by.”

Elijah felt an old, empty heaviness on his shoulders. He took a deep breath and massaged a burbly place in Micah’s belly when his best friend squirmed slightly, before asking quietly, “What then, can you do? What can you do for the other ninety-nine faces?”

There was a long, thoughtful pause.

“You’re right,” said Ryder eventually, “that it’s not always as easy as a hot water bottle and a safe place to sit. Especially not when it comes to the gangs, and the way they get their claws into young folks. Some taken by force, some with nowhere else to go, some tempted with promises of money to send home to a needy family. Every one of them, used until every drop of hope, kindness, and joy has been wrung from their hearts.”

Ryder’s words hit uncomfortably close to home. Elijah tried not to let himself tense or react, kept his expression as empty as he possibly could. He hoped that when he let his gaze roam back to the man’s face, it didn’t seem forced.

“It’s hard to do much about it,” Ryder continued. “Usually I can only give a little. A bit of food here, an old coat there. Very rarely, I can make a real change. I’ve only managed it once, so far. My apprentice, Grayson – I suppose you might meet him in a minute – he was in a gang when I met him. I got him out.”

Before he could reign in his reaction, Elijah felt his brow soar to his hairline and struggled not to let his jaw drop as well. After a tense couple of seconds he cleared his throat and blinked, reminding himself that not every gang belonged to Tenner. There were dozens of smaller gangs in the city, many of which had far more lax rules and requirements.

“Depending on the gang,” Elijah found his voice, using one hand to massage at Micah’s lower back, where the curve of his belly stretched the muscles there, “That is very difficult to do.” His best friend grunted softly and Elijah brushed a thumb over the back of Micah’s hand. “The way you phrase it… I get the impression you are hoping to make another such attempt?”

Ryder inclined his head. “I’m always hoping. But yes. I have identified a situation in which I think I could be of some help.”

Elijah was quiet for a moment. When he answered, his voice was hesitant, almost nervous. “Would you be interested in… assistance?” He wanted to hold Ryder’s gaze, but when his next words slipped out, ones he hadn’t quite planned on saying, he found himself glancing to the side, maybe in shame, maybe in longing. “You are not… the only one. Who remembers faces.”

“I thought that might be the case.” Ryder’s voice was warm. He raised his mug to his lips and then paused, seeming to find it empty. “Hmm. Pardon me for a moment.” He stood. “Have you changed your mind about that tea?”

Elijah watched as Ryder moved towards the kettle, stiffening at the unexpected question. He knew what it was, he recognized the intent of a peace offering, to solidify the newly-built bridge between them, but still, he wavered.

 _People can act._  Elijah had been unnervingly open and honest the entire conversation, failing to mask his emotions, dangerously so, to the point this man could be easily playing on his obvious weaknesses. If it all turned out to be a well-played trick, it was over. Micah might never get home.

 _But he drank from the same kettle._  Elijah reminded himself, fidgeting. There were ways to get around that of course; having an antidote in a specific tea bag or a pill hidden behind teeth, to counter any ill effects.

Only a few seconds had passed, but if Elijah let the silence go on any longer, it would be improper. With a deep breath and a slow nod, he relented.

“I suppose so. Thank you.”

“What about you, Micah? Feeling up to tea?”

Micah stirred sleepily, hiccuping and peering past his curls as he looked over Elijah’s arm towards Ryder. “Huh?”

“He asked if you would like some tea, Micah.” Elijah repeated gently, patting Micah’s back. His best friend yawned and smiled sheepishly. “Yes, please.”

Ryder smiled and dropped tea bags into a pair of mugs. As the kettle began to boil, he asked, “Have you heard of Cecilia Redwine, Elijah?”

Elijah thought carefully. The name didn’t sound entirely unfamiliar as he turned it over in his head, but he found he couldn’t place it. “I cannot say for certain that I have.”

“She runs a small but quietly effective outfit based in the tunnels to the south.” Ryder paused a moment. “Who are you affiliated with?”

Elijah looked up at him from where he was combing his fingers through Micah’s hair. “I answer to Tenner.”

He felt Micah jolt in his lap and glanced down in mild confusion. His best friend blinked up at him with huge eyes, turning to look at Ryder a second later, and Elijah frowned, wondering what was wrong. Was his stomach hurting him badly again? He quickly tucked a hand back over Micah’s middle and began stroking gently at the swollen curve, from ribs to hip bones, soft and soothing. Micah’s eyelids fluttered as he sank back against his chest again and Elijah sighed faintly with relief, returning to the conversation at hand. “I have connections in the inner city but mostly operate with the outlying branches towards this area in the southwest.”

“That would explain why you don’t recognize the name. Redwine’s group is currently too insignificant to catch the attention of major operations like Tenner’s. They are mainly concerned with thwarting trafficking operations, though they conduct a range of nefarious schemes to that end.” The kettle began to steam, and Ryder lifted it to fill the cups. “There’s a young man who works for Redwine I’ve gotten to know. The gang rescued him from a trafficking operation half a year ago and then offered him membership. He accepted, hoping to send money home to his family. Starry-eyed, like they all are at first.” He gathered the teacups and carried them back over to the seating area. “He’s a kind boy. Far too kind. The very nature of the work terrifies him. He told me that he asked Redwine for his freedom, but she wouldn’t release him from his obligations. I fear he’ll be dead within a year if he stays in that gang.”

Familiar words. People had said the same thing about him, Elijah remembered. “I assume he must be a valuable asset in some way. Would Redwine accept a trade? Perhaps a set of favors or something else of value for this young man’s freedom? If she receives something in exchange for him, she may consider him to have fulfilled his potential worth, and would not count him a loss.”

Ryder nodded as he passed Elijah and Micah their mugs of tea. “That was my reasoning. However, she’s unwilling to even discuss a potential trade. She wouldn’t grant me an audience.”

Elijah ensured Micah had a decent grasp on his mug before lifting his own to sip at it, slowly at first, blowing softly at the steam that curled up from the rim. His eyes darkened slightly. “Everything has a price. It may simply be a matter of offering her something that she cannot refuse.” He swallowed another mouthful of the drink and despite himself, relaxed marginally as the warmth spread through him. “How do you suppose she might react to a direct approach? That is, a visit without an invitation?”

“A bold move. One I’ve been unwilling to do on my own, as, well…” Ryder spread his hands slightly, indicating his stocky, not particularly muscular frame. “But perhaps, were I to make this visit with a well-connected member of a more powerful gang….”

Elijah nodded. “Groups such as these, they do operate somewhat off the naivete of their members, the collective belief that they are fighting a ‘greater evil,’ than themselves. Were a visit to be made; clearly diplomatic in nature, bolstered by the presence of someone with something to offer, Redwine could not feasibly react in a hostile manner without damaging the morale of her members. Such a scenario may very well be successful in forcing her to at least listen.”

“I’m glad we’re agreed. If we were to–”

Ryder stopped as Elijah’s right pocket buzzed loudly, earning a squeak of surprise from Micah. Administering a gentle pat to his best friend, Elijah dug for his phone and pulled it out, peering irritably at the screen.

“Who’s that?” Micah complained, and Elijah patted him again.

“That would be my errand.” Elijah sighed faintly, tapping something into the device with a frown. “He is not… easily deterred.”

Ryder glanced from Elijah to Micah and back and then said, “Micah could stay here and finish his tea while you take care of your business.”

Elijah hesitated, rubbing a thumb over a tense place in Micah’s side. “Thank you. That may be best. I would not put it past my contact to come striding into this tent.” Elijah stopped himself from rolling his eyes, but only just. “Micah?”

“Yeah, go kick his ass.” Micah mumbled, rubbing at one eye, and Elijah shook his head before setting his mug of tea down on the table just in front of their seat. Carefully, he scooped Micah into his arms just long enough to stand and resettle him on the cushion, arranging his best friend comfortably and making sure he hadn’t spilled his own mug in the process. He ruffled Micah’s hair and looked towards Ryder gratefully. “I will be back shortly.” With one final glance at his friend, he turned and left the tent, pushing aside the flap at the front and stepping out into the brightness outside.

Micah yawned again, robbed of his warm and comfortable Elijah-Seat, but meekly sipped at his mug and did his best to focus on Ryder across from him.

“How are you feeling?” Ryder asked.

Micah ducked his head a little and smiled, rubbing at his neck. “Like I did a bunch of stupid-ass things and then got rescued by people I don’t even know and like I’m never going to hear the end of it from a certain behemoth.” He peeked up towards Ryder’s gaze a moment later. “So you know… thank you.”

Ryder chuckled. “I’m just glad you’re looking better than when you came in.”

Micah pushed a hand through his hair, brushing it back from his eyes a bit. “Honestly I feel like I’ve basically taken a nap. Which helps a lot.”

“It’s good that you’ve been able to relax.” Ryder paused a moment to sip at his tea before saying, “Although… I did notice you seemed to be following the conversation.”

Micah lifted a shoulder in a sheepish half-shrug. “Maybe a little.”

“You have no underground connections yourself, yet the name ‘Tenner’ jumped out at you.”

Micah’s expression turned to stone. He was silent for a long moment, then grimaced and spoke with an uncharacteristic growl, “Tenner… that’s Elijah’s gang boss’ name. He… had Elijah beaten. Not that long ago, actually.”

Ryder’s eyebrows raised slightly, then knitted together. He said, very softly, “Hmm. I was afraid it might be something like that.”

Micah’s eyes only grew darker. “That uh… thing he said earlier. About… altruism.” Micah frowned over the unfamiliar word. “‘Altruism is looked down on at the street level.’ He said that same damn thing to me, pretty much word for word, when he was trying to tell me  _why._  He said – I dunno – that he broke a rule from Tenner so he could help someone else. And Tenner fucking  _beat_  him for it.” Micah’s hands tightened around the teacup and began to shake. “With a crowbar. Elijah could have  _died._  He…” Micah’s face grew haunted. “He almost did.”

Ryder opened his mouth to respond, but a burst of noise from the back of the room interrupted him.

“Ryder! You were totally right!” Kara crowed merrily over the sound of a door banging open. “This kid was just standing there staring at the boxes when I found him, like he thought they were gonna unpack themselves. I don’t know why you keep him around.”

“I was taking a five-minute break!” A young feliken man emerged from the back hallway after Kara, his tail lashing irritably. “Not all of us have the arm muscles of a Halar, Kara!”

The sudden commotion was a bit startling after quite a while of being cuddled and soothed on his best friend’s lap, and Micah curled his hands over his tummy just a bit, without seeming to realize he was just drawing more attention to it. He’d set his empty mug aside and now he tried to take in the scene before him, looking over at the feliken curiously. The young man had dusty brown hair, patterned with the same tabby stripes that were on his tail and ears. He was average-height, and despite being thin, he had a certain look of strength about him. At the moment, the points of his sharp canine teeth glinted as he complained loudly in Kara’s general direction.

A name from the previous conversation floated up in Micah’s mind, and abruptly feeling uncharacteristically shy, he mumbled in aside to Ryder, “Is that… Grayson?”

The feliken’s ears twitched, and then his pale eyes found Micah. “Yeah, I’m Grayson,” he said, and then suddenly glanced sheepishly at Ryder, as though wondering whether he should’ve been more polite to his boss’s guest. “Can I, uh – can I help you with anything?”

Ryder held up a hand. “It’s alright, Grayson, he’s not a customer. He’s a new friend.”

Micah instantly beamed, feeling a warm glow. “I’m–  _hic_  –I’m Micah.” He flushed when he was interrupted by a hiccup, remembering the weight of his tummy a little belatedly. Maybe he shouldn’t have sat up so fast…

“He’s the one I told you about,” said Kara, causing Micah’s cheeks to go even redder. “The guy who bought the cake from me?”

“Oh!” Grayson looked at Micah with renewed interest. He came over to perch himself on one of the low beanbag seats gathered around the chairs. “You’re from the surface, right? How in Corda’s name did you wind up down here?”

Micah sighed faintly and played with a stray curl. “I came down with my best friend, Elijah. He does gang stuff down here but he said I could come since he wasn’t doing anything dangerous this time, just running an errand.”

“Elijah has indicated interest in helping us,” said Ryder. “With Bramley’s situation.”

“Really?” Grayson’s face broke into a toothy grin, which vanished as quickly as it had come. “Wait – why?”

“Why?”

“Why would he help us? Did we trade something?” A coldness slid into Grayson’s eyes. “Look, I don’t like being suspicious, but I remember how the gangs work. Why would he help us? There’s got to be a reason.”

“Because.” A voice suddenly came from the doorway. “You helped me first.”

Micah rolled his eyes as everyone turned their heads sharply to see Elijah coming further into the tent. Sometimes it was baffling how someone so big could move so damn  _quietly._

Elijah strode back towards Micah, his gaze resting on Grayson as he did, in curiosity and contemplation, studying him calmly. He didn’t continue until he reseated himself next to Micah, sliding one big arm around him, and Micah nestled into the hold with a bashful smirk.

“Or, rather, you helped Micah first. Which is the same thing, more or less. I understand that this was a kindness offered unconditionally, but I am not one to let debts go unpaid. If I can be of assistance to you, I will give what I can.”

Grayson paused, glancing at Ryder for guidance. His mentor smiled slightly, and Grayson visibly relaxed. “Makes enough sense,” he said, and then to Micah, “Kara just said she rescued you from the street. What did you get yourself into anyway?”

Micah abruptly wished he could disappear through the floor again, looking down in an effort to hide his red cheeks, mumbling out, “I uh… sort of ate too much. Maybe.”

Grayson looked like he might laugh, but before he could, Ryder spoke up gently. “In his defense, we both know that Kara’s baking can bend the strongest of wills.”

Micah beamed in relief and looked towards Ryder in delight, then felt his tummy grumble unpleasantly, just before Elijah’s warm hand slid back over his middle and rubbed a soothing circle.

“You should not–” Elijah paused when Micah groaned faintly at the comforting massage, “–encourage him. He finds enough trouble on his own.”

“Bastard.” Micah muttered affectionately into Elijah’s chest, and felt his best friend’s other hand ruffle his curls and give them a soft pat.

“Maybe I should hang a warning sign on the side of my stall,” said Kara with a chuckle. She came over to the seating area and sunk onto a beanbag of her own. “I hope you’re feeling a little better than earlier, Micah.”

Micah turned his head so he could smile bashfully at Kara. “Yeah, a little. Thanks for–” He glanced around the room a little. “Bringing me back here. And for getting Elijah for me.”

“Kara.” Elijah’s deep, serious voice floated over Micah’s head, and he looked up to see his best friend looking at Kara with a depthless sincerity in his blue eyes. “Thank you for bringing Micah to safety. Thank you for coming to retrieve me, I apologize if I frightened you earlier.”

“Awww, of course.” Kara beamed. “And right back at you, big guy. I hope I didn’t make you think Micah was in too much trouble.”

Elijah sighed very faintly, rubbing at his brow with one finger. “In all fairness, I have been known to jump to conclusions.”

Micah snorted. “Yeah like last week when you thought I’d failed my test because you saw me stomping around outside the cafeteria. And it was about the laser-light score. But you came up all worried and shit and started trying to calm me down and I was so damn confused.”

“You guys are in school?” Grayson’s eyebrows shot up. “University? Whoa, what’s that like?”

“University is great.” Micah gave a wry grin. “It’s like riding a bike. Except the bike is on fire and you’re on fire and everything is on fire and you’re in hell.”

He squeaked in surprise when Elijah gently headlocked him, shoving his face further into his chest in reprimand. “Micah is prone to hyperbolic humor. We just finished a semester a few weeks ago, and I suspect he is mostly thinking of our week of final tests. We have classes that we enjoy just as much as classes that we struggle with. It can be difficult to keep up with time commitments, but in the end I think we would both say that we enjoy learning and working towards our degrees.”

“What he said.” Micah’s voice became less muffled when Elijah loosened his hold. “Yeah, I’m kidding, mostly. It’s fun but it can also be stressful sometimes.”

“Ah, so you’re both in school.” Ryder looked curious. “How old are the two of you, if you don’t mind me asking?”

Micah peeked over Elijah’s arm towards him. “I’m nineteen. Elijah was born middle-aged and gets older every day.”

Elijah looked at the ceiling in affectionate exasperation. “I am twenty-one.”

“Wait, really?” Kara sounded surprised. “Same as Grayson and me. I totally thought you were older.”

There was a short pause, then the faintest of smiles touched Elijah’s face. It softened his eyes and he answered, “I hear that often.”

Kara grinned. “It’s that beard. I bet you’ve got a big old baby face hidden under there.”

Elijah gave her a gentle warning look, but the humor didn’t leave his eyes.

Micah suddenly found himself yawning hugely, covering his mouth a bit late and feeling Elijah give him another little squeeze. “Sorry, I’m okay.”

“You have had a long day.” Elijah pointed out, ignoring Micah’s subdued protest. “We should probably be getting back to the surface.”

“Of course.” Ryder reached out collect the empty teacups. “Don’t let us be keeping you. Regarding what we discussed….” He met Elijah’s eyes. “I’ll speak with the young man, to let him know the plan and make sure he approves. What would be the best way for me to contact you when we’re ready?”

Elijah thought for a moment, rising carefully from the low seat so he wouldn’t jostle Micah, then lowered his hand to help his best friend to his feet. Micah huffed a little with the effort of standing, but didn’t wince or look pained, and Elijah patted his back encouragingly before digging for his cell and looking back to Ryder.

“I realize it is far less common to see cellular devices underground, but if you have one available, it would be the easiest way for me to communicate with you. I can give you the number to my device and you could call me whenever the timing is appropriate.”

Ryder nodded. “That sounds reasonable. Grayson, could we borrow your phone please?”

Grayson’s ears flattened a bit, as though he didn’t like the idea, but he dug the phone out of his pocket and handed it over.

“Thank you,” said Ryder. He turned it over in his hands, frowning deeply. “How does one…?”

A beat of silence passed, then Elijah held out a hand invitingly. “If you would like me to, I could simply add my own contact information to the device?” When Ryder handed the phone to him, he paused momentarily, gaze flicking over the rune situated on the back of the phone, then turned it over and opened the settings and contact information. He entered his number and assigned his name, then closed the menu and returned it to Grayson. “My device is heavily encrypted, so when you place a call to me, you may not hear a dial tone or a ring, but rest assured that I will receive the call.”

Elijah placed a hand warmly at Micah’s back, gently prodding him towards the front of the tent, but before lifting the flap, he turned back towards Ryder. In one smooth, methodical motion, he reached deep into one pocket and withdrew about forty ren, a typical payment for an hour or so of an informal healer’s time. Not that he was certain Ryder was a healer, but for all intents and purposes, the outcome was the same.

“Thank you for your assistance today.” Elijah held the money out, clearly expecting Ryder to take it.

But instead, Ryder frowned deeply and drew himself up, as though he were offended. “I will certainly not be accepting that,” he said, voice stern.

When Ryder stiffened, Elijah flinched before he could stop himself, visibly jerking back a fraction of an inch, the hand he’d been holding out trembling once as he dropped it. He turned his head to hide what he knew would be, at least momentarily, a fearful look in his eyes, berating himself instantly for the drastic reaction, and for letting his guard down too soon.

It was so  _easy_  to put on an act. The most dangerous people weren’t the ones who were outwardly cruel, it was the ones who were outwardly _kind,_  and unpredictable. One of the most terrifying people that Elijah had worked under as a child had been like that – calm and benevolent on the surface, but would fly off the handle at the most seemingly random offenses. The first time he’d learned his lesson, he’d been backhanded into a wall.

But Ryder didn’t follow the stern remark with a sudden movement of any kind, and Elijah struggled not to let the moment drag too long, taking a quick breath to compose himself. He’d just offended the man, it was alright. Nothing that couldn’t be amended. He’d not expected the reaction but that didn’t make Ryder dangerous, it just meant he had to readjust his impressions.

“I apologize.” Elijah cleared his throat and re-pocketed the money, turning further away, ushering Micah with him. “I meant no offense. I will be waiting for your call.” He glanced back once, gaze unlingering, then pushed aside the tent flap and took Micah outside. He looked down as his best friend peered around him to smile and wave at the others, then the draping fell closed behind them, and they were gone.

* * *

“He  _seemed_  really nice, yeah. But I still find it kind of weird.”

“Seriously, Grayson, what’s weird about it? We helped his friend, he’s gonna help ours. Haven’t you told me gangs operate by trading favors? That seems like a fair trade to me!”

“Yeah, but we’re not a gang, Kara! We’re a little group of shopkeepers. He could have taken his friend back and never spoken to us again and we wouldn’t have been able to do a damn thing about it. He didn’t even have to offer us money like he did!”

Ryder looked up from the small sink where he was washing mugs to glance over his shoulder at his younger friends. “Precisely, Grayson.”

“Precisely what?”

“He didn’t have to offer us money, but he did. He didn’t have to offer us his assistance, but he did. I believe that speaks to the sincerity of his intentions.”

“Or it means he’s got some kind of ulterior motive we don’t even know about.”

Ryder turned off the faucet and hung the dripping mugs on their hooks to dry. “He’s risking far more than we are. If he accidentally gets his associates caught up in our personal feud, there could be repercussions.”

“Great, a possible gang war. Just what I want to be caught in the middle of.”

Kara shook her head, laughing. “You worry way too much, Grayson! I thought Elijah was sweet. And Micah was a riot! Do you know that when I found him, the first thing he did was  _compliment_ my baking? Like he was fit to burst at the seams and he still wanted me to know how good everything had tasted.”

Grayson crossed his arms, scowling. “Laugh at my worrying all you want. The first thing you learn out on the streets is that people who seem nice sure don’t always turn out that way.”

His tail was twitching agitatedly, the way it did whenever he started thinking too much about his old gang life, and Ryder felt compelled to intervene. He sat down next to his apprentice and said gently, “Maybe you should get back to unpacking those boxes, hmm?”

Grayson sighed deeply. “I really hope you know what you’re doing, Ryder.”

“I do. I trust Elijah.”

“Why?”

Ryder paused a moment, glancing from Grayson’s wide, anxious eyes to the front entrance of the tent and back. “His face. I’ve seen it a hundred times before….”

* * *

 

Micah watched nervously from his place on the couch as Elijah moved about in the kitchen area, making him another cup of tea and getting out a couple of antacids for him to take with it. Micah’s tummy didn’t really hurt that much anymore, but it had gotten a tiny bit unsettled during their somewhat strenuous walk through the snow back to the apartment. He’d started hiccuping just as they’d reached the door, and Elijah had settled him on the couch, wrapped him in blankets, and told him to stay put. And he hadn’t said a word to him since.

Micah bit his lip. “Are you really mad at me?”

Elijah shut a cabinet with a little more force than necessary and leaned onto the counter with both hands. His back was shaking slightly and Micah felt his heart skip a beat.

After a very long pause, Elijah took a deep breath and returned to pouring hot water into the mug he’d gotten down. “Micah, do you have any idea how fortunate you were today?”

Micah twisted his hands in the blanket over his lap. “I’m guessing pretty fortunate.”

Elijah muttered something unintelligible and dropped a tea bag into the mug before speaking up more clearly. “You completely ignored everything I asked of you. You were not careful, you were not sensible, and you placed your life in the hands of people you did not know. You could have been killed, Micah, and that would not even have been the worst outcome. You could have been kidnapped, trafficked,  _tortured_ —“ Elijah’s voice choked off and he set the bottle of honey down none too gently, with a little slam onto the counter. When he spoke again, his words were trembling. “Yes I am angry with you. I could have lost you today. I might have never seen you again. Because you were  _foolish_. I will be angry with you until further notice.”

Micah was openly crying when Elijah turned back around, but his best friend didn’t even bat an eye at the tear tracks on his cheeks, and that brought home more than anything else could how angry Elijah really was. Micah cried harder, scrubbing a hand across his eyes, then heard Elijah set the mug down just before gentle fingers settled over his curls and began to pet them soothingly.

“You were more fortunate than I think you can understand.” Elijah said quietly, then knelt down, placing a hand on Micah’s knee with a soft sigh. “I owe Kara and Ryder a very great debt.”

Micah coughed and sniffed, shuddering when his best friend handed him the warm mug and the antacids. “I’m s-sorry.”

“I hope so.” Elijah looked at him sharply and Micah shivered, feeling worse and worse. He chewed the tablets and gulped at the tea, whimpering in sudden relief when Elijah rose to sit on the couch with him, putting an arm around him and holding him gently. He steadied the mug with his other hand when Micah buried himself in the hug, and sighed deeply again.

“I’m really sorry.” Micah sobbed into his best friend’s broad chest, and Elijah’s hand pressed to his back and began rubbing softly.

“I accept your apology. But it will be a little while before I am no longer angry with you. I do not think you understand what I went through when I realized you were not where I had told you to wait.”

Micah coughed around a short laugh and sniffed again. “I guess that’s fair.” The hand on his back rose and held the back of his head, thumb stroking at the soft place beneath his ear.

“Micah, I love you.” Elijah’s voice was breaking, and he swallowed hard. “Please don’t ever do that to me again.”

Micah shuddered and clung to his best friend harder. “I won’t. I promise. I’m really,  _really_  fucking sorry.”

Elijah rested his chin over the top of his head. “Good.”

For a little while, the only sounds in the apartment were Micah’s sniffles as he calmed down. He went back to drinking the tea after a few minutes, and Elijah rested a hand over his tummy and began to rub again, massaging a little deeper to work out the grumbly places as Micah sighed. When he finished his tea, Elijah set the mug aside for him and fixed him with a far more gentle look that made everything seem worlds better.

“How is your stomach feeling?”

Micah rubbed at one eye. “Don’t feel like I’m gonna explode anymore, at least. Are you really gonna try to help that Bramley guy, for Ryder?”

Elijah’s brow creased in mild confusion. “Bramley?”

“Yeah, Ryder said his name after you left to go give that keycard to what’s-his-face.”

“Yes, of course I am going to try. I am not completely certain I will succeed, but I am going to do whatever I can.”

Micah fidgeted with the edge of the blanket again. “Please don’t get mad at me for asking this, but when you go down to see them again, can I come with you?”

To his surprise, Elijah simply looked at him tiredly. “I suppose there is no reason why not. I believe they are trustworthy people. How come?”

Micah smiled softly. “I really like Kara. And Ryder of course, and Grayson. I feel like I made new friends and I don’t like the thought that I’ll never get to see ‘em again.”

Elijah sighed and rubbed at his temple. “I like Kara too. Ryder seems cut from a different cloth than many I have seen in similar positions in the Underground, and I would like to get to know him better. And I like him as well.”

Micah quirked a brow. “Not Grayson?”

“I like Grayson.” Elijah was quick to respond. “I truly do. I do not think he likes me.”

Micah wrinkled his nose in confusion. “What? Why’s that?”

“I am concerned he sees me as a threat. I understand why he would, but I am not sure it will be easy to convince him that I mean no harm.”

Micah suddenly smiled and gave Elijah a sideways look. His best friend frowned softly. “What?”

“I have a hunch it’ll be easier than you think. Do you have any idea how fucking  _cuddly_  you are?”

Elijah tried to hide his smirk as he tweaked Micah’s ear, earning an offended squawk. “I suspect it will be more complicated than that.”

“Maybe. I dunno though, I think he’ll get used to you pretty quick.”  Micah yawned and leaned back against Elijah’s side, closing his eyes. “Can I take a nap on you?

“Yes.” Elijah pressed a kiss to the top of his head and rubbed his back again. “Sleep well.”

“Do you forgive me yet?”

“Not yet. Ask me again when you wake up.”

Micah grinned and nestled closer. “I will.”


	2. It's Complicated

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> On a trip to negotiate for Bramley’s freedom, an unforeseen obstacle wreaks havoc on Grayson’s and Elijah’s tummies. Meanwhile, Kara and Micah have some lovely chats, Ryder goes Dad Mode, and Grayson harbors a secret.

“Hey! When are Micah and Elijah getting here?”

Grayson nearly dropped the stack of plates he was holding. “Geez, Kara, you don’t have to yell. I’m literally right here,” he said, flicking his ringing ears.

Kara, whose head was poking in through the tent flap, grinned sheepishly and dropped her voice to a stage whisper. “Sorry. When are Micah and Elijah getting here?”

“Like twenty minutes? Last I heard.” Grayson set down the plates, pulled his phone out of his pocket, and glanced down at the screen. No new messages. He bit back a sigh.

“Perfect! Stew’s almost done. The table looks great, Ives.” Kara flashed a quick thumbs-up before vanishing back through the tent flap.

Grayson surveyed the cloth-draped table he’d spent the last half hour setting up. It was usually kept in a closet, folded in half, until Ryder asked him to bring it out for special occasions or dinner meetings with well-to-do business partners. They had a chest of fancy silverware for that, but this lunch was going to be a lot more informal. Grayson had simply carried out ordinary dishes from the kitchen.

The job was  _almost_  done. He still had to unstack the plates and sort the jumble of cutlery, but that wouldn’t take long. Maybe he had time to send a quick text….

The soft creak of the back door made him jump and shove his phone back into his pocket. That had to be Ryder returning from his living quarters, where Grayson knew he’d been taking his weapon out of its safe and checking it over. Grayson’s own weapon was already back there, ready and waiting in its holster.

The thought made the hair on the back of Grayson’s neck stand up. It’d been a long time since he’d gone anywhere with more than a knife on his belt. Stabbing drove off random thugs just as well as shooting, and carrying a gun could put you in more peril than it was worth, turning you into a bigger threat and therefore a bigger target. But in the gangs, you’d be screwed without a firearm.

Ryder’s footsteps came up behind him. “Grayson, can I have the phone please?”

“Uh – what for?”

“Messaging Elijah. I thought I’d ask which entrance to the marketplace they’re taking. I’ve got to run a quick errand and thought I might meet them there.”

Grayson hesitated, not looking up from the pile of cutlery he was sorting. “You could just tell me what you want to say and I’ll write it.”

“I don’t know what I want to say yet.” Ryder’s voice sharpened a little. “Please give me the phone.”

Grayson sighed and reached into his pocket. “I don’t know why you even gave this to me if you were just gonna ask for it back all the time.”

“Now that’s not a fair thing to say.” Ryder’s voice was so deeply disapproving that Grayson felt himself flinch. “I did tell you when gave you that phone that I might need to borrow it sometimes. You agreed to that arrangement.”

“I – I know.” Grayson felt his heart curl a little with shame. “You’re right. Sorry….”

“Leave those forks alone and talk to me a moment.”

Grayson dropped the cutlery and turned around, forcing himself to meet Ryder’s eyes.

There was reprimand there, but also concern. “What’s bothering you?” he asked. “You’ve had a horrible attitude all morning.”

“Yeah, I know I have.” Grayson ran a hand through his hair sheepishly. “Sorry, Ryder. I guess I’m… just nervous. Don’t like hanging around gang folks when I can help it.”

“Ah.” Ryder’s expression softened a little. “But you like Bramley, don’t you?”

“Bram’s different! He’s in gang, sure, but you see him and you instantly know he’d rather give you a hug than tear your face off. Elijah… I don’t know about Elijah. I know  _you_  trust him.”

“Yes. Though I do understand your misgivings.” Ryder reached out and touched Grayson’s shoulder. “I appreciate you placing your faith in my judgment. Try to lighten up a little.”

Grayson did try. He felt a little better after Kara came into the tent, bringing an enormous pot of delicious-smelling stew and her endless cheer in with her. And it was hard not to smile when Micah poked his head through the tent flap, split into a big grin, and ran over to give Kara a hug.

“Hey Kara!” Micah squeezed her tight then stepped back a little, peering at Grayson with the same bright smile. “And Grayson! It’s really cool to see you guys again.” He sniffed over in the direction of the pot. “Wow, that stuff smells amazing.”

“Thanks, kid.” Kara reached up to ruffle his curls. “Just be a little more careful this time, huh?”

Micah instantly blushed, ducking his head with a bashful giggle. “Yeah I know. Elijah will kick me under the table anyways if I’m not.”

“I have never once kicked you.” A protest floated over the room as Elijah parted the tent flap and ducked to step through, holding it aside behind him as he was followed by Ryder. “Given you a slight nudge maybe. But never ‘kicked.’”

Micah rolled his eyes with a smirk and unbuttoned his coat, as his friend came over to stand near him. Elijah straightened up to his full height once he’d moved away from the edge of the tent, his sharp blue gaze flitting over Kara and Grayson. A pleasantness entered his expression, though he didn’t smile yet.

“Kara, Grayson.” He greeted them in a warm tone, nodding slightly. “It is good to see you both again.” He focused on Kara, looking a little more serious. “As I said in my messages earlier, Micah wished to come down again with me so he could visit with you all, but I have no intentions of letting him anywhere near gang territory.”

“You didn’t tell me that.” Micah grumped under his breath, crossing his arms, but Elijah continued without acknowledging his friend’s slight dismay.

“I was hoping he could remain here with you while we complete the errand, would that be alright?” Elijah blinked apologetically. “I should have mentioned so earlier as well, but the thought slipped my mind.”

“Don’t worry about it, big guy! Micah can absolutely stay with me. I’ll be sure to keep him safe, both from criminals and from cakes.” She winked at Micah, grinning at the way he blushed. “Though I hope you both brought your appetites. Did Ryder mention I was making lunch?”

Elijah lifted his head before glancing in Ryder’s direction. “He did. Thank you, it is very kind of you both to host us. I must say that Micah was certainly excited upon hearing that news.”

“Goddesses,” Micah groaned, burying his red cheeks in his hands, “I’m just never going to hear the end of this am I?”

“Indeed not.” Elijah looked vaguely amused. His hand descended over Micah’s curls and gave a gentle ruffle and pat, coaxing his friend to sigh and lift his face again.

“Well, don’t you all just stand there!” Kara shooed everyone towards the table. “The bread just came out of the oven, let’s cut into it before it gets cold.”

It sure didn’t feel like any illicit deal he’d been a part of before, Grayson thought as he took his seat the table, listening to Micah laugh at something Kara had said while Ryder passed out bowls of stew. He’d sat in on street level deals, which were full of open threats and snarling, and he’d watched Ryder negotiate with suppliers just barely rich enough to call themselves azure and rolled his eyes at all the posturing and false politeness. Laughter was something new.

He stared across the table to where Elijah was sitting. His expression was still pleasant, but Grayson had met too many people who could be serene one minute and unspeakably cruel the next.

“Alright then,” said Ryder once everyone had been served and begun their meals. “Allow me to share this afternoon’s plan. I’ve been in contact with Bramley, the young man whose freedom we’ll be bargaining for. He’s agreed to meet us at 2 o’clock on the train stop just inside his gang’s territory. Elijah, Grayson, and I will meet up with him and he’ll take us to the headquarters. From there, we will hopefully gain an audience with Cecilia Redwine.” He turned to look at Elijah. “I have the money to make her an offer. All we need is your influence.”

Elijah paused in eating, seemed to take a moment to swallow, then looked up. “Has Bramley spoken with you at all about the layout of his gang’s territory? Do we have any idea of what kind of setup we will be approaching, or are we going in blind?” He tilted his head slightly, looking contemplative. “Gangs based out of the south side of the city are known for taking up residence in abandoned structures from neglected developments.”

“Yes. Their hideout is a some kind of abandoned parking garage, as I understand it. I don’t know more detail than that, since navigating potentially hostile territory is not within my usual expertise, unfortunately. But I’m sure Bramley can provide with you more specific details when we meet up.”

Elijah nodded, gaze turning inwards, then he blinked as Micah spoke up.

“What’s Bramley like?” Micah looked at Ryder curiously, a smile on his face. “Is he nice? When you guys get him, are you gonna bring him back here?”

The corner of Elijah’s mouth quirked in amusement. “Micah, it is very unlikely that all of this will be solved in a single visit. I imagine there will be numerous meetings and negotiations before Bramley is given leave to go.”

Micah sighed impatiently. “I know  _that._  But he will eventually, right?” He grinned back at the others. “Is he fun to be around? Could I come meet him sometime too?”

Elijah didn’t look up for the answer, but he held his head attentively, as though he were also listening to hear what to expect when meeting Bramley.

Grayson answered before Ryder could. “He’s a really nice guy. A little shy, but he’s got the biggest heart. He just wants to send money back to his family without having to kill or be killed every day, you know?”

“We’re planning for a close friend of mine to hire him as a bodyguard once we secure his release,” Ryder added.

Elijah’s brow creased thoughtfully. “A position as a bodyguard can come with its own risks… are you certain such a role would be a good match for Bramley, if he is averse to fighting?”

Ryder smiled slightly. “He looks the part. Which is all he would need to do. My friend can certainly take care of themselves if they have to.”

Elijah nodded at that, lifting another spoonful of stew to his lips, chewing and swallowing before commenting, a hint of warmth in his tone, “I look forward to meeting him.”

That made Grayson feel a little reassured. Elijah couldn’t be so bad if he actually cared about who Bram was, right?

He dipped his spoon back into his own bowl, realizing suddenly that he was almost down to dregs. Just as suddenly, he noticed the stretched, weighty feeling in his belly and sighed aloud. Since when had he gotten so full? He felt more prepared to take a nap than to strap on a gun and confront a gang leader.

He was feeling less anxious than he had been earlier, at least. Kara’s hearty cooking had soothed the nerves right out of him, filling him up with steady, solid warmth instead. He pushed his spoon around his bowl, nudging the tender bits of meat and soft vegetables, mouth watering a little at the sheen of the juices that ran out of them. It wasn’t much left. He could finish the bowl, grab one last slice of bread to soak up those delicious juices, and then be done.

It was an indulgence he regretted a little fifteen minutes later, as everyone began to rise from the table. He could feel the weight of his stomach acutely as stood, and he had to brush his tail away as it instinctively flicked up to curl around his middle.

“Are you sure you got enough to eat?” Kara asked Elijah as he politely stacked his empty bowl. “One bowl of stew was enough to fuel all six-foot-whatever of you?”

“He’s six foot six!” Micah piped up helpfully and Elijah glanced in his direction before looking back to Kara.

“It is kind of you to ask, but as much as I hope we will not encounter hostilities this afternoon, there is no guarantee one way or the other. I would prefer to remain unhindered and alert in case of a fight.”

Grayson tried not to look sheepish. It’d be fine. He had a whole train ride to digest.

He volunteered to take the stack of dirty dishes back to Ryder’s kitchen, leaving them in the sink before going to retrieve his gun from where he’d stored it. Its weight felt familiar at his hip. It was unpleasant, but not as bad as he’d expected.

Every time he’d fired the damn thing back during his gang days, he’d been plagued with doubt. Had things really had to end in blood? Had it really been worth it?

What he was doing today, he was doing for a friend. He felt no doubt at all.

Back in the tent, Elijah and Ryder already had their coats on. Elijah was repositioning his belt so that the gun and knife strapped to his hip were clearly visible, then looked up as Micah called out and hurried over to him.

“Wait!” Micah’s hands closed demandingly on the lapels of Elijah’s coat, pulling him down to eye level, and he let himself be tugged. “I know this is just supposed to be a ‘talk,’ but you’d better be careful out there, you dumbass.”

Elijah’s face softened in a way it hadn’t since he’d stepped into the tent, and he smiled affectionately at Micah, pulling him into a tight and warm embrace. He pressed a kiss to the top of his friend’s head and ruffled his curls, brushing a broad hand over his back. “We will be very careful. I promise, Micah.”

“Okay.” Micah huffed, shutting his eyes for a moment as he buried his face in Elijah’s chest. “Not a fucking scratch.”

“I cannot promise  _that.”_  Elijah said, with some humor, before releasing his friend and buttoning up his coat.

“We should be back by this evening,” said Ryder, catching Kara’s eye. “If we’re not, you know who to call.”

Kara nodded solemnly before reaching out to pat Ryder, and then Grayson on the shoulder. “Don’t get into too much trouble.”

The trip across town was so trouble-free it was almost weird. Usually when he went out, Grayson encountered at least one suspicious character who leered at him as though they were weighing how strong he looked against the likelihood of him carrying anything of value. This time, nobody gave them a second glance. That was the benefit of walking beside a guy who was six-foot-six and covered in scars, Grayson figured.

They caught a train to the south side of town. The other passengers gave them space, and Ryder and Elijah were both quiet, which Grayson was grateful for. He felt his adrenaline spike and then level off into a steady baseline thrum. By the time the train pulled up at their stop, he felt alert but calm.

The platform was nearly empty, and it was easy to spot Bramley’s bulk in the thin crowd. Grayson ran ahead of Ryder and Elijah, catching Bramley in a loose half-hug. “Hey Bram! Good to see you. You doing all right?”

“Yeah.” Bramley’s big arm curled around his shoulders and gave him a squeeze. “You?”

“I’m good.” Grayson stepped back as Bramley released him, suddenly noticing the very short black-haired woman standing nearby. “Who’s this?”

“You must be Grayson.” The woman held out a hand. “My name’s Malia.”

_A power move,_  Grayson thought. Showing she knew his name before he’d even said it. Grayson reached out to shake her hand. It was so tiny in his that he thought she must be part-Fae.

“She’s a friend,” said Bramley. “I always see her when I’m waiting for the train.”

“I work around here,” Malia explained. “I’m often meeting business contacts on this platform. Bramley mentioned he was waiting on some friends. It’s nice to meet you.”

“Nice to meet you too. Uh….” He glanced back at Ryder, hoping he’d know how to navigate this situation. Friend of Bramley’s or not, it wasn’t a good idea to let strangers know what they were up to.

Malia seemed sense his discomfort. She smiled and took a step back as Ryder and Elijah approached. “I’ve got to be going now that you’re here. My contact is arriving soon. Perhaps I’ll be seeing you in the future.” She waved and slipped away.

Ryder frowned after her. “Who was that?”

“Friend,” said Bramley, who was also watching her go. He blinked, then glanced up at Elijah with the obvious shock of someone not used to having to look  _up_  at other people.

Elijah’s gaze darted back to Bramley’s face as he’d also looked after Malia in curiosity. His eyes warmed and he moved, reaching a hand out, mouth opening to introduce himself.

Something in his movement and body language must have confused the other young man, for as soon as it became clear that Elijah was expecting a handshake, it became just as obvious that Bramley was moving in to give another hug. A split second later and Bramley had stepped back again a little in embarrassment, cheeks turning pink, as Elijah blinked in surprise.

The moment could have passed, awkward and unresolved, but Elijah seemed to determine not to let it. He smiled, a big, genuine, warm smile, and reached for Bramley again, this time with both arms as he captured him in a huge embrace. He hugged him tightly, hands on his back and chin to the side of his head, then released him slowly and stepped back once more. Then he held out a hand and gave Bramley’s a more formal shake.

“Hello, Bramley.” Elijah’s smile was still there, and there was something in his eyes that spoke of deep respect. “My name is Elijah. It is good to meet you.”

Bramley’s cheeks were still pink, but his smile was huge. “Good to meet you too,” he said softly.

Grayson glanced from Bramley to Elijah, feeling his heart swell. Beside him, Ryder was looking very pleased.

“Well,” he said, “now that we’re all introduced, shall we go up?”

* * *

“Can I ask you something?” Kara said as she handed Micah another plate to dry. “Something that might be a little intrusive. You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to.”

Micah looked up in mild surprise, which quickly turned to a grin, his eyes curious. “Yeah, sure, what’s up?” He finished mopping up the water droplets off the plate in his hand and set it aside carefully.

“You and Elijah. What’s the story there? Are you guys, like…?” She let the question hang.

Micah looked confused for a couple of seconds, then his brow raised with sudden clarity. “Oh! We’re not dating, if that’s what you mean.” He chewed his lip once in contemplation. “We’re– he’s my best friend.”

“Okay, but I mean….” Kara tried to think of how to word her point. “I’d say Grayson is my best friend, but I still wouldn’t kiss him on the head like Elijah did to you. Not unless I wanted to gross him out, that is.” She dipped another dish into the soapy water. “I didn’t get the vibe that you were dating, but I kinda thought you two might be Kindred.”

Micah beamed in relief. “That’s–!” He started to blurt something out, then stopped himself, taking a deep breath. “Okay so that’s kind of how I think about it. But Elijah can be… a little jumpy around labels, if that makes sense? He didn’t really have a way to connect with his ‘identity’ or anything until coming to college and I think they make him worried and feel like he has to fit his feelings in pre-defined boxes.”

He dried another plate and stacked it, shaking out the cloth a little. “I’m pretty sure he’s aro-ace. I don’t really want to  _call_  us Kindred though, because I don’t know for sure how he’d feel about that, but I know he loves me. And that’s what really matters, y’know? And I love his big stupid face too.”

Kara grinned. “That’s sweet. And smart of you to wait and let him figure himself out before slapping those labels on. I’ve never had a problem with them myself, but I’ve seen how it is for other folks. When I first met Grayson, he could barely say the word ‘gay’ without his face turning bright red. And Ryder does exactly what you say Elijah does, saying ‘my close friend’ this and ‘my close friend’ that even though we all know that his relationship is actually Kindred.” She shrugged. “Guess it’s all due to how you were raised.”

Micah fumbled with the plate he was holding. He caught it with a sigh of relief and set it down, looking over to Kara with wide eyes. “Ryder’s Kindred with someone?” A huge grin stole over his face. “That’s really cool! I mean – I feel like it’s kinda rare to see, in a way. I’ve seen maybe one other pair who called themselves Kindred but that was ages ago, back in like the third highschool I was in. And that was before El and I met.” Micah’s eyes glimmered happily. “I dunno, there’s like a solidarity to it. When you see someone else out there being themselves the same way you are. Do you think – if Elijah keeps letting me come down and see you guys, which he will by the way, he knows it’s safe now – do you think we’ll get to meet Ryder’s friend?”

Kara laughed. “Oh, I’m sure of it! They’re pretty busy, so they’re not always around, but they can never stay out of Ryder’s business for long.”

Micah giggled. “Yeah that kinda sounds like me and El. Our friends have made a lot of jokes about us being joined-at-the-hip and all that. Don’t see one of us without the other sort of thing.”

“I think you’ll all like each other a lot.” Kara handed Micah the final dish and wiped her hands on a towel before turning to look at him. “So, you say Elijah might be aro-ace. What about you?”

Micah laughed again, shaking his head. “Nah, I have a girlfriend! El and I are probably closer, platonically, but Sasha is really super sweet and I feel really lucky to have her. She’s super tough, too, she doesn’t take shit from  _anyone.”_  He blushed, expression turning a little gooey as he thought about his romantic partner. He blinked after a moment and looked up at Kara again. “So Grayson’s gay, huh? What about you?”

“Me? I’ve known I was a lesbian since I was old enough to write love notes to the girl next door.” She winked at him. “I married my wife last year. Happiest day of my life.”

Micah’s expression turned to one of naked adoration. “Holy fuck are you serious?? That’s so awesome!!” He blew out a breath, looking slightly stunned. “Congrats! Shit, do you think we’ll get to meet her sometime too?” He returned the wink with another grin. “How come she’s not around?”

Kara was beaming. “Awww, you’re the sweetest, Micah! She’d love to meet you guys! She works clear on the other side of town, so she’s not usually here until the evenings. But maybe sometime we can have a little weekend party, huh?”

Micah lit up, clearly loving the idea. “Hell yeah we should! Get everyone down here and just–” he held up his hands, “–mass introductions. Everyone gets a name tag. Chaos reigns.”

“Ryder’s not gonna let us use his tent if there’s too much chaos,” said Kara with a laugh. “But the name tags should keep him happy. He loves stuff like that.”

Micah grinned. “Definitely want to keep Ryder happy so we can use his tent.” He chuckled then, eyes growing fond. “And honestly, too much chaos would make Elijah nervous anyways. He doesn’t do very well at really loud parties and stuff.” Micah glanced towards the door worriedly. “I hope they’re doing okay out there. El usually doesn’t act that serious unless he really  _does_  expect there to be danger…”

* * *

The route up from the underground railway was similar to most; a long, dark staircase with only dim light from flickering bulbs set at haphazard intervals. The exit point was a heavy wooden door that opened into a cluttered alleyway, and once it was shut, was hardly distinguishable from the dilapidated wall that surrounded it.

Elijah waited for a moment for Bramley to take the lead, but when he didn’t, resolved to walk beside him, careful not to step too far ahead but hoping to lend a steady presence at his shoulder as best he could. He glanced behind them sparingly, just to ensure that Grayson and Ryder were staying close as well, keeping pace as they moved further into hostile gang territory.

“Can you tell me more about how your gang headquarters are set up?” Elijah requested calmly, glancing in aside to Bramley. “And what they call themselves?”

“We’re called… the Mitters.” Bramley’s voice was quiet, almost shy. “Hideout’s an old parking garage. All built up, so it has rooms. Half underground, half above.”

Elijah mulled that over, brow creasing contemplatively. “Are there any wide open areas around the complex? Places where there are no buildings to hide behind, or side streets one might duck into?”

“Mhmm. Empty lot to the north.”

Elijah nodded, looking back towards Ryder and Grayson to include them in the conversation. “We should circle around to north and cross the territory at the most open place we can. We could be too easily mistaken for trespassers if we are found walking around in hidden areas. I imagine that as soon as we are spotted in the open, more of the Mitters will come to join you—“ Elijah looked back to Bramley, “—in escorting us the rest of the way?”

Bramley nodded, and Ryder tipped his head in agreement. Grayson’s expression was stony, but it was hard to miss the way his ears were folded back against his head.

As they walked, Elijah wondered aimlessly to himself what the meaning behind the name “Mitters” could be. He couldn’t parse anything particularly significant from it; unless it was meant to be some kind of reference to boxing rings and their “mitted” hands, he was at a loss. Gangs  _usually_ chose their names for some kind of significance, though.

They left the shelter of the alley and came to a broad, flat area that stretched for some distance. On the other side of it, there were a couple of squat buildings and the upper few levels of a crumbling parking garage — presumably, the rest of it was underground. Elijah squinted into the distance, unable to keep from thinking that it looked awfully quiet, then stiffened as he caught movement out of the corner of his eye. They were being watched.

“We will walk forward at a steady pace.” He said low, under his breath. He looked towards Bramley once more, softening his gaze in a way he hoped was encouraging. “It would be most diplomatic towards your gang for you to take the lead now. I will be right behind you.”

Bramley took a deep breath and nodded, stepping out front.

The response was impressively fast. They had scarcely gone a few paces into the open lot when half a dozen figures melted out of the nearby alleyways and came up to accost them. Elijah kept moving forward at an even walk until they were face to face, then halted and stood his ground, though of course it wasn’t him they addressed first.

“Nubbins,” one of them snarled, jerking their chin in Elijah’s direction as they stared Bramley down. “What d’ya think you’re doing, bringing strangers into our territory?”

Bramley stared straight ahead, obviously scared witless by the confrontation. “I would like to bring them to see Cecilia,” he said stiffly, as though he’d rehearsed the line a hundred times in his head. Elijah glanced towards him as subtly as possible, brow creasing in concern at the rigid set of his shoulders.

One of the gang members standing near the back cackled. “Oh, ‘bet I know what’s up. Ya still tryna to ditch us, Nubs? Are these your cute lil friends from the outside? You think they’re gonna spring you outta here and take ya home, like a lost puppy?”

Elijah moved, with extreme slowness and grace so he wouldn’t set off a reaction, and placed a supportive hand on Bramley’s shoulder. He met the eyes of the nearest member and said, as calmly yet firmly as he could, “We just want to talk.”

The Mitter gave him a long, hard look. But finally they nodded, jerking their head in a motion to be followed, and turned away, a dominant stance of presenting a confident back to a potential enemy. “Fine. But if you try anything, you’ll be dead faster than you can fuckin’ blink.”

Elijah tried to observe and take in as many details of their surroundings as he possibly could as they approached the hideout at a closer range. The once-open walls of the parking garage had been closed off, fashioned into a sheltering maze with planks of plywood and sheet metal. There were multiple ins and outs, some barred, some that looked functional, and though the buildings a little further ahead looked worn-down, there were a few lamplights flickering at their ground-floor levels.

As the Mitters jostled around them and moved them towards the entrance, Elijah glanced back sharply when he heard Grayson take a nervous breath, then immediately shifted his much greater body weight dangerously in the direction of one of their escorts. The Mitter flinched and backed away, leaving Grayson room to breathe.

Elijah tried to subtly check behind his other shoulder for Ryder; he seemed alright. Tense and alert, but not frightened. A glance at the back of Bramley’s head told Elijah that he was nervous, but also not significantly distressed.

Over the entrance, a rather brilliant swathe of graffiti greeted them, and Elijah found himself pausing for the briefest of moments, attempting to make out the colorful, stylized word painted in blocked letters.  _Manumitters._  He was quickly herded along, but he turned the word over in his head several times, trying to place it. The meaning came to him after a bit of pondering, and he frowned in confusion.  _One who frees another from slavery._  “Mitters” was obviously the shortened slang, but what significance could the full word have to this small, isolated group?

After descending a few levels, they arrived at a room with only one entrance, in the middle of which sat a desk, in front of which sat a woman. Once they had shooed Elijah, Grayson, and Ryder through the door, the Mitters members, save for Bramley, backed away and let them stand freely, and the woman at the desk rose to her feet, fixing them all with an absolutely furious glare.

“I don’t know what gave you the impression that we’re gleefully accepting visitors at all hours, but consider yourselves very damn lucky we didn’t decide to nab the opportunity for some target practice.” She nearly growled the words through her teeth before cocking her head to the side. “I think I can probably guess, but just so we’re all on the same page –  _state your business.”_

Short blonde hair fell in straight locks just past her ears. She had a scar across her cheekbone, another over her lower lip. There were circles under her eyes, betraying the stress she was under. Her slender face belied the strength in the shoulders she held back, poised and confident, vitriol seeping from her narrowed gaze.

Elijah felt his brow raising slightly. He knew that face.

“Cecilia.” He remarked curtly, turning his head to the side, leaving his gaze on her a moment longer before glancing coldly away. He made no effort to hide the fact that he was keeping her in his peripheral, but he pulled the classic stance of someone considering the other to be beneath their notice. He took a step, another, leaning into the movement like a prowl, circling the corner of the room slightly. She watched him and tensed.

Something in the way he’d spoken, or perhaps his brief expression of surprise, had caught Ryder’s attention. Out of the corner of his eye, Elijah saw the man glance between him and Redwine, looking confused. “So you  _do_  recognize her?”

Elijah heard Redwine take a breath as though to speak, and quickly cut in before she could get the upper hand on the conversation.

“Only her face. Not her  _name.”_  He let his gaze slip judgmentally in her direction. She stiffened, lip curling, but didn’t rise to the bait.

“Elijah Brayler.” She practically hissed his name, then cleared her throat and lifted her chin in a challenge. “I should have known Tenner was behind this. I didn’t realize he was sending his mongrels  _this_  far outside his own territory, though.”

“I am not here on Tenner’s behalf.” Elijah sniffed in disdain. The briefest glimpse of conflict crossed the woman’s face. She was confused, and she glanced back to the others in the room again.

He recognized her, because years ago, he’d taken part in a series of missions to free trafficked prisoners from the darker depths of the city’s illicit circles. He still awoke, gasping, from nightmares saturated with those people’s desperate screams for help. Redwine had been among those who participated in the rescues, but Elijah had found that after a few too many successes, the organizers had gotten greedy. They began to try to turn profit from the missions, and the lines became blurred; innocents taken advantage of.

Apparently Redwine had also drawn away from them, starting her own gang around the concept instead. Elijah wondered if she was benevolent, or ultimately as money-hungry as the rest of them. At least that explained where the name choice of “Manumitters” had come from. Slowly, more pieces of the puzzle were coming together.

“I’m not taking offers for Nubbins.” Her cold voice brought Elijah back to the present. “You’ve undoubtedly noticed we’re a rather small force, there’s no hiding that.” She lifted her head dismissively and shot him a sharp glance. “Every member is crucial in small gangs. There’s not a reasonable price you could offer. Anything I would accept is beyond a single man’s worth, and I’m sure you’re not stupid enough to waste your resources.”

Elijah scoffed low in the back of his throat, and paced another few steps closer, circling, preying, “Do not insult me. What would constitute months of effort for you would likely hardly be legwork for me. Smaller gangs  _do_  have their disadvantages, you realize.”

A low blow. Redwine drew herself up in fury, and Elijah pounced, metaphorical hackles raised, “I am certain you are not  _stupid_  enough to waste your opportunities.” He tossed the woman’s own words back at her, along with an offer she really would have to be dangerously stubborn to refuse. “There is very little limit on the price at stake here. Very few favors that you could not immediately seize. Give Nubbins leave to go, and I will pay for him in full.”

Redwine gave him a long, hard look. “If you’re not here on Tenner’s behalf, then why  _are_  you here?”

Elijah rolled his eyes to give himself a few precious seconds to think.

He knew what the easiest answer would be. He knew how to play his audience, how to glance slyly back in the direction of the others with a predatory look, how to let his lips quirk with a hint of a vicious smile. He could utter the words with scorn, “I have my reasons,” and Redwine and everyone in the room would believe he was getting something even better out of Ryder and Grayson. Taking advantage of people desperate for help.

He was confident Redwine would fall for such a stunt. But he also knew, very deeply, that so would Grayson.

Elijah wasn’t blind. He knew the young feliken was nervous around him, hesitant to believe he meant well, scared of trusting too soon and being hurt for it later. If Elijah used such a tactic to convince Redwine now, Grayson might not  _ever_  be able to trust him. He’d always wonder if Elijah was secretly plotting them ruin.

And Elijah didn’t like the thought that Grayson would always flinch away from him.

A few milliseconds had passed and Elijah shook his head, glancing back at Redwine, lips parting in a sneer.

“A personal errand.” He declared tauntingly, telling the truth in so derisive a tone, he knew she’d never believe him. Indeed, bewilderment crossed her face before she scowled; she’d probably demand his “real” reason, and he’d jeer back at her until she gave up the pointless argument. The real question; was she considering his offer?

Something twisted in Elijah’s stomach with no warning. He carefully concealed a grimace, swallowing once, wondering if he was getting too worked up, as the nausea bubbled in his belly.

Behind him, he heard the sound of someone’s shaky inhale, then a heavy swallow, and in a momentary lapse, turned his head in confusion.

Redwine had just begun to say, “I’m not sure I want to know what kind of game you’re playing here, but—“

She’d caught his glance backwards, and stopped, and Elijah’s instincts barked at him to play it off, to not look distracted, but he couldn’t quite make sense of what he was seeing. Grayson looked positively ill, sweating slightly, breathing uneasily and swallowing again. He looked exactly the way Elijah was beginning to  _feel,_  with each passing second, but Ryder was looking at his apprentice with concern and seemed entirely healthy himself, as did Bramley. So there hadn’t been anything wrong with their lunch, but then why—

Elijah’s gaze snapped upwards in an instant when loud noises suddenly boomed overhead. A look of deadly hatred swept Redwine’s expression as she also looked up, and Elijah had half a moment to hope that maybe she’d just think his change in behavior was a result of extremely sharp senses, noticing the disturbance before even she had.

“Fucking magicians, thought they’d—“ One of the Mitters at the side of the room began to hiss profanities, only to quail at Redwine’s responding glower just before she raised her voice, her patience clearly spent.

“Alright Brayler, I’ve heard enough; get  _out,_  all of you! Or I’ll shoot you where you stand and leave your corpses out for the birds — go out the back if you  _don’t mind.”_  Rage seethed on her words and she tossed her head, grabbing her gun from her hip and checking the cartridge. “I have enough shit to deal with and you are not  _welcome_ here! Nubbins, you’re staying here with me.”

She shoved past Elijah towards the door a beat later and he put on a glare for show as she passed, then crossed the room towards the other three, swallowing hard against the miserable churning in his stomach. Magicians. That explained a  _lot._ He hoped he didn’t look as ill as he felt.

“We have to get out of here, they seem to be enduring some form of organized attack.” Elijah said in a hushed tone to Ryder, glancing to the side as some Mitters members began to move towards them, shoulders squared aggressively. They’d herd them out and then shoo them towards the exit before joining their boss in the fray.

Ryder turned to meet Elijah’s eyes with a look of intense concern. “A problem. Grayson is a Null,” he whispered tersely, bracing a hand against his apprentice’s shaking shoulder in a way meant to support without emphasizing his weakness.

Elijah had noticed. He very much empathized. Despite his own mounting nausea, he felt a sharp twinge of concern as he looked down at Grayson, noticed the hazy look in his eyes and the paleness of his face. He pushed away the urge to offer comfort; he couldn’t afford a display of too-obvious kindness with Redwine’s gaze still trained on them from the doorway.

“Even more important we leave as quickly as possible, then.” Elijah answered Ryder, holding his gaze earnestly for a moment before turning to Bramley beside him.

Elijah kept his expression serious, but not defeated. “We had best not linger for now, but we are not giving up. Thank you for your escort, Bramley, I hope we will be seeing each other again shortly.”

Bramley’s eyes darted back to his fellow gang members closing in, and to Redwine, who had fixed him with a possessive glare. The sharp sound of gunfire rang out above, making him visibly flinch.

Ryder reached out to briefly clasp Bramley’s arm. “Stay safe,” he added quietly. “Stay out of danger. We’ll be in contact as soon as we can.”

Bramley swallowed hard and then nodded, glancing from the floor up to Ryder and Elijah. “Thanks. You guys stay safe too.”

Elijah put a warm hand on Bramley’s shoulder for a fleeting moment, then turned to follow Grayson and Ryder out of the center room’s door, blocking the gazes of the Mitters behind him with his shoulders, shielding their ill companion from view. He gestured for the other two to make a left turn, towards the back of the facility, and tried not to flinch at the sounds of raised voices and gunfire still filtering down from above. A wave of dizziness washed over him and he fought back a wince, swallowing as quietly as he possibly could, resisting the urge to curl a hand up to his belly.  _Magicians_.

Beside him, he heard Grayson audibly gag and then groan softly. “Shit…. I… wish I hadn’t eaten so much at lunch….”

“You’ll be alright,” said Ryder, voice calm and encouraging. “As soon as we get out of here, you’ll–”

A enormous crashing sound somewhere above set the walls around them shaking. Its dying echoes were filled with shouts and the sounds of thudding footfalls. It all sounded ominously close.

“If you feel up to it, we should run.” Elijah proposed urgently, picking up the pace, eyes scanning the hallways. He glanced sideways at Grayson and received an uncertain nod.

Ryder quickened his pace first, then broke into a sprint, Grayson behind him, and Elijah bringing up the rear. As soon as the adrenaline spiked and his shoes began pounding the pavement, Elijah gritted his teeth against a terrible surge of vertigo that throbbed at his temples and heaved in his stomach. Only the pressing necessity to keep his composure in the face of danger kept him from skidding to a halt, bracing his hands on his knees, and throwing up everything he’d eaten before they’d left the marketplace.

Grayson was clearly having just as difficult a time. His run was wobbly, and after making it only a few precarious yards, he suddenly gagged again, shuddering deeply, losing his footing as he stumbled. Elijah sucked in a breath and swerved, flinging out an arm for Grayson to fall into instead of the pavement, bringing his other hand to his companion’s back in the next moment. He all but swept him off his feet, but if it kept them moving, he hoped Grayson would forgive him.

“Go, keep going!” He shouted at Ryder who had momentarily slowed his pace. Elijah half-carried, half-dragged Grayson for a few more steps before the feliken found his feet again and shakily regained his swift jog. For one second longer, Elijah’s hand rested against Grayson’s side, his thumb rubbing an instinctive circle against the churning he could feel before he drew his hand away.

“Keep going.” Elijah swallowed hard, muttering the words for both their benefits. “We have to keep moving.”

The sounds of battle raged above them as they ran below, breathing heavily, turning corners in a rush. If they could just make it out of the complex, then the path out of the territory should be clear. Once safe, there were many things to discuss.

Cecilia Redwine’s obstinance would  _not_  stand in the way of Bramley’s freedom.

* * *

Micah set the stew pot down on the floor where Kara said he should, then stood up and took in the interior of her stall with a curious smile. Out front, there were shelves and cases where she sold her bread and pastries from, and the attached tent was small, but cozy enough to spend a few hours at a time, rolling dough or decorating cakes.

To one side, there was a broad, flat wooden work bench, covered with flour, with a small stool underneath. It sat next to a big wood-fire oven crafted from bricks and clay, and there was a small stack of firewood on the glittering floor next to it. The other side of the small space had another tabletop with utensils and spices. The fabric draped around them was patterned and pretty, and it looked like there were little personal items hung from some of the drapings. In the middle of the floor, below a circular cutout designed to let steam and smoke rise, was a fire pit carved into the cavern floor. Above it, there was a cast iron rigging where supposedly the stew pot normally hung.

Micah started to turn, then grinned in fascination when he saw Kara pull down a little chute attached to the wall, angling the spout down into the pot. Clear, fresh water started pouring into it when she turned a handle set into the stone, and he quickly knelt beside it again, grasping the handles and holding it steady so it could fill up faster. “Let me help!”

“Aw, thanks.” She let him take the pot. “We’ll leave it to soak for awhile and scrub it out later.”

When the pot was full and they’d left it to sit, Micah crossed his legs on the floor and chewed his lip once. There was something that had been on his mind for a while and he wanted to ask Kara about it, but he wasn’t sure if the topic would be welcome. Well, couldn’t hurt to try at least, right?

“Hey… Kara?” He smiled at her, hoping not to look  _too_  sheepish. “This is kind of a random question… and you don’t have to talk about it if you feel like you shouldn’t or maybe if you think Grayson wouldn’t want you to, but I’ve kinda been wondering a little…” Micah rubbed the back of his neck, “Why does he seem so jumpy around Elijah? Elijah even said, when we got home after meeting you guys for the first time, that he doesn’t think Grayson likes him. He thinks Grayson sees him as a threat…” Micah pushed a hand through his curls and looked up as Kara answered.

“Hmm, well… I wouldn’t say Grayson doesn’t _like_  Elijah. He’s just real suspicious around anyone who’s got connections to the gangs. He had some… bad experiences when he was younger.”

Micah felt his brow pinch. “Bad experiences like what?” He thought over what he knew of Elijah’s reasons for joining the gangs. None of them were pretty, and he suppressed a grimace. “Does he have family who got really hurt or something?”

“Nah, his family’s fine. He just got kicked out of it.” She caught the look on Micah’s face and and backtracked a little. “So you know how feliken communities up on the surface can be suspicious of us Underground folks?”

Micah swallowed hard and nodded. “Yeah… me and El have a feliken friend who talks about how smothering those family groups get sometimes.”

“Yeah, well, Grayson was born into a family like that. But he always had some curiosity about this forbidden little world. Nothing more than childish fancies, like he wasn’t about to run away and start dealing moonbeacon or anything. But when when his parents found out that he’d been secretly reading about the Underground, making friends with people who had family members in the gangs – well, they told him to get out of their house.”

Micah felt his jaw drop and he stared at Kara in faint horror. “Just like that? Just for poking around?”

“Sadly, yeah. He was seventeen. Didn’t have anywhere to go up on the surface. He spent a few days on the street until – well, the way he tells it, this friendly-seeming feliken man saw him stealing some food and asked him if he needed somewhere to go. Poor naive Grayson told him the whole story, and that was it. That’s all the leverage a crook needs to sink their claws into you.” Kara sighed and rubbed at a patch of scales on her cheek. “The gang got sold to him as a loyal band of companions, fighting a romanticized war against the evils of society. A place where someone would always have his back. Where he could find a new family.”

Micah swore he could feel his heart crack a little. He knew what the promise of belonging could do to a kid who wanted it above all else. He felt his expression twist with sympathy and he tried to clear away a lump in his throat. “I’m guessing things went to shit pretty fast, huh?”

“You’re guessing right.” Kara smiled bitterly.

“Elijah almost always comes back from his nights on the streets bloodied up. And he sure doesn’t talk about the people he meets out there in a friendly way.” Something hopeful poked at his thoughts a moment later though and Micah blinked. “But Ryder said he got Grayson out? When did that happen?”

“A little more than a year ago. Ryder basically bought Grayson’s freedom. Told the gang leader he wanted to take one of their members as an apprentice and offered to pay in exchange.” Kara made a face. “I’m sure the gang probably thought it was a bit of routine trafficking. But Ryder would’ve let Grayson go off and do whatever he wanted. It was Grayson who decided to stay.”

Micah fidgeted in alarm at the phrase “routine trafficking.” That sounded horrible. And the gang would have just let one of their members get snatched up like that? He forced a small smile. “I’m glad Ryder got him out. And that Grayson decided to stay.” He peeked up at Kara through his curls. “Probably sounds a little weird, coming from me, but the two of them just seem like they belong together, y’know? Hell, I would never have guessed that they’ve only known each other for a year. They seem like family.”

“They knew each other for awhile while Grayson was still in the gang. But yeah, I know what you mean. They act like father and son sometimes.” Kara smiled fondly. “And honestly, even though  _I’ve_ only known Grayson for a year, he feels like a brother to me. It’s like Ryder and I were meant to find him.”

Micah picked at the faceted floor of the cavern. “Grayson doesn’t think Elijah would try to… drag him back into the gangs or anything does he? Or is it–” Micah frowned. “Is it because he thinks El might snap suddenly? Like he seems nice but he might be awful later?”

“Based on some of the stories I’ve heard, I think it’s exactly that second thing he’s worried about.” She paused. “I don’t really think I should say too much without him knowing. But I think the poor kid lost a lot of hope when even the decent-seeming folks in his gang turned out to be just as violent and merciless as the rest of them.”

Micah chewed on that for a minute. “Yeah.” He said finally. “I think I probably would, too. Can’t blame him.” He gave Kara an earnest look. “I know that Grayson’s gonna have to figure out for himself what he thinks of Elijah, but El’s honestly like… got the best heart in the world, y’know? And I can tell he’s trying to be really careful around Grayson.” Micah chuckled. “He’s a big fucking softie and he just wants to be friends.” He leaned his chin in his hand and looked up at Kara hesitantly. “What do… what do  _you_  think of Elijah?”

“Me? Oh, I like him!” She paused a moment and then admitted, “I mean, when I  _first_  saw him, I thought he was a little terrifying.”

Micah couldn’t stop himself from scrunching up his face a little and giving Kara a sideways look.

“But to be fair, he was freaking out!” said Kara quickly. “As soon as I saw him scoop you into his lap and start cuddling you, I knew he was a good guy.”

Micah grinned in relief. “Yeah, that makes sense. All our friends up on the surface were kinda wary of him too until they realized he just hugs everyone all the damn time.” He couldn’t help but laugh a little. “And honestly, once he thinks Grayson’s comfortable with it, he’ll be cuddling all over him, too.”

Kara laughed heartily. “Oh man, I can’t  _wait_ to see that.”

* * *

Ryder could see the way Grayson was leaning on the arm Elijah had held out for his benefit. The poor boy was fading fast – both hands pressed over his stomach, trembling where he stood. Every moment they wasted was another moment for him grow weaker and more vulnerable.

They had come to a halt at a juncture where the hallway had split into two, neither path looking more promising than the other. Ryder had glanced at Elijah, hoping he might have some ideas, but he looked just as puzzled. There was something else in his eyes too – not fear, but a slight cast of dread and dismay that made Ryder feel compelled to reassure him.

_He’s not a child,_  Ryder had to remind himself.  _He’s an ally. He’s a high-ranking gang member. This kind of danger must be trivial to him._  Still, Ryder could not help remembering that Elijah was no older than Grayson. Only twenty-one. An adult, certainly, but still so young….

The squeal of a heavy door swinging on its hinges jolted Ryder from his thoughts. He felt a stab of alarm as the slam of door closing was followed by heavy footsteps and voices. They were indistinct, but not hushed – the brazen speech of the attackers rather than the attacked. And they were approaching down one branch of the hallway.

Elijah caught Ryder’s eye and jerked his head in the opposite direction. Ryder nodded and reached out to take Grayson’s other arm, so that the two of them could help shepherd him quickly and quietly down the hallway.

They rounded a corner and were confronted by a door. Ryder tugged it open to reveal a large concrete room, empty except for a few dusty crates. A dead end, and no time to turn back.

“Hide,” Elijah whispered, and Ryder nodded. They bundled Grayson through the door and carefully eased it shut. Elijah flicked off the lights, leaving the three of them huddled in darkness.

“Maybe they won’t come this way,” Ryder breathed, but his hopes were dashed a moment later by a muffled shout of “Split up! You four, go check down that hallway.”

He felt Elijah shift beside him, no doubt drawing his gun. He leaned closer and whispered, “In an enclosed space?”

“Ricochets would indeed be very dangerous down here,” Elijah murmured back. “I will only fire if I am certain of my target.” But then after a moment of silence, he added, “Assuming we are fighting to kill?” There was deference in his tone, but also something guarded.

“If we must.” Ryder felt for the knife on his belt. Best not to touch his gun. He was a rather poor shot under the best of circumstances.

At his other side, he heard Grayson’s breath catch, followed by the sickly whine of his stomach. He reached out to feel for his apprentice’s hand and found it clammy and shaking.

Beyond the door, the approaching heavy footsteps came to a stop. “What are you waiting for?” said a voice. “Open the door!”

Grayson’s stomach gurgled again. Ryder heard something catch in the back of his throat and then the faintest whimper as he swallowed it back down. He gently moved his hand from Grayson’s fingers up to his back, rubbing gently and trying his best to convey the words he didn’t dare say aloud.  _Deep breaths. You’ll be okay._

“You really think we should look in there?” said another voice. Probably just storage.”

Ryder felt Grayson’s shoulder jerk under his hand before he heard the choked retch. There was a sharp intake of breath from Elijah’s direction as poor Grayson let out a queasy belch and then finally doubled over and threw up.

“What the fuck?” said a voice outside. The next instant, the door had been flung open and the room was flooded with light.

There was a loud bang and one of the four shapes filling the doorframe slumped to floor. Elijah had fired his gun before Ryder’s eyes had even stopped stinging in the sudden light. Now, Elijah rushed forward to meet their attackers at the door, catching them at the choke point before they could rush into the room unchecked. There was a short cry and a sharp crack as he brought his weapon down against a skull.

One of the attackers dodged Elijah’s bulk and turned to face Ryder, knife drawn. Ryder was suddenly very conscious of his apprentice, weak and shaking beside him. He stepped protectively in front of Grayson, drawing his own knife and trying to remember what he had been taught in a more unfortunate period of his life. Bend your knees. Face sideways. Keep your focus on the weapon.

The fight was mercifully short. The attacker lunged and Ryder stepped aside. He took advantage of her reach to land a blow of his own, a light slash to the wrist that barely drew blood and only served to annoy her more than anything. She came at him furiously, driving him back until he refused to step any further away out of fear of exposing Grayson. He planted his feet, and saw a brief flicker of triumph in her eyes when she saw she had him cornered.

Mid-lunge, knife bearing down at Ryder’s throat, she was caught by powerful hands and hauled backwards. Her furious shout cut off with a sickening  _crrrkk_  sound, then Elijah dropped her body, mangled at the neck and shoulder. He was breathing hard and he paused mid-pant to swallow hard, then his gaze darted back up to Ryder after he glanced at Grayson in concern. Elijah’s face was wan and he swallowed again before he gasped out, “Are you alright?”

“Fine.” Ryder hoped he didn’t look as shaken as he felt. “You?”

Elijah nodded and turned away, dragging a trembling hand over his forehead. “Stay here. See to Grayson. I am going to check beyond the room for a moment.” He coughed suddenly and swallowed hard. “If they came through a nearby entrance we may be very close to making our way out. Stay here.” Then at a brisk pace, he strode towards the door, stepping over the bodies in his way. Two of the four were still breathing.

Ryder immediately turned his attention to Grayson, who was on his hands and knees, still drooling weakly into a puddle of his own sick. It looked like he’d thrown up more than once, as though as soon as his nausea had gotten the better of him, it hadn’t let him go until he’d been completely emptied out.

“Come on,” said Ryder gently, wrapping an arm around his apprentice and dragging him away from the mess. He tried to help Grayson sit against the wall, but the poor thing was still shaking so badly that he slumped right back into Ryder’s arms, and Ryder let him rest there. “Are you okay?”

“I’m really fucking sorry,” Grayson mumbled thickly. “I tried not to. I just… couldn’t hold it down anymore….”

“I know.” Ryder put a careful hand over Grayson’s stomach. He could still feel it churning and bubbling angrily. “It’s not your fault. Are you feeling any better now that it’s out?”

Grayson hesitated a moment before nodding. “Less sick. Just… really shaky… and gross….”

Ryder reached into a pocket of his coat and took out a small canteen. “Here. So you can rinse out your mouth.” He frowned as Grayson took the canteen in both trembling hands and let it rest in his lap, as though he were too weak to lift it. “Do you want some help?”

“No, I… think I just need a minute.” Grayson cleared his throat and sat up straight, shifting his weight from Ryder’s shoulder to the wall at his back. “I’ll be fine.”

“Alright.” Ryder stood up, sensing his apprentice wanted a bit of space. “I’ll go see if Elijah’s found anything. Be right back.”

He carefully sidestepped the pool of blood by the door, moved out into the hallway, rounded the corner, and almost smacked straight into Elijah.

Ryder had to stop short in surprise. He’d assumed Elijah had gone up the way their attackers had come, scouting ahead for an exit. Instead, he was standing with one hand braced against the wall and the other up near his face, two fingers pressed over his mouth. His hair had been adjusted from its usual ponytail into a bun, presumably for the fight, and the wisps that had come loose were sticking to the light sheen of sweat on his forehead.

He looked  _ill._

“Elijah?” Ryder asked, frowning as Elijah started at the sound of his name. “Are you okay?”

Elijah slid his hand away from the wall as he pried his eyes open, swallowing hard. He crossed his arms tightly over his chest in a movement that might have seemed intimidating if it didn’t look like he was trying to hold himself together. He swallowed again and his voice came out thickly, “Thought I said to stay with Grayson.”

“Grayson is looking better than you are at the moment.” Ryder tried to reach for Elijah’s shoulder in concern, but then quickly pulled his hand back when Elijah flinched away.  _Not a child,_  he reminded himself.  _Give him space._

“It’s nothing to be ashamed of,” he said instead, voice tentative and gentle. “Blood gets to all of us sometimes.”

Elijah made a sound, something like a scoff of disbelief. He opened his mouth as though to speak, but his stomach abruptly gurgled dangerously and he clamped his jaw again, squeezed his eyes shut, dug his fingernails into the sleeve of his coat. He swallowed hard once. Twice.

“Blood.” Elijah muttered with a shake of his head once he seemed to regain control of himself. “No.” His eyes opened to mere slits once more, and there was conflict in his gaze, as though he were thinking something over. “I am… also a Null.” He took a deep breath, shaking slightly, exhaled slowly, then breathed again. “Grayson is the only other I have met, in my lifetime.”

Ryder felt his mouth drop open. “You – you’re a Null? So you’ve been sick too, this whole time?”

Elijah cleared his throat. “Well. Since just before the attack began.”

“Why didn’t you say something?”

Elijah’s gaze slid towards Ryder doubtfully. “And what good would that have done? Admitting to any kind of weakness with Redwine in earshot would have been a very poor decision. Drawing attention to it during our trek through the complex would have only slowed us down.”

Ryder tipped his head in acknowledgment. “A fair point. I suppose I’m just amazed you’ve kept it together. I’ve known Grayson long enough to understand how strongly Nulls feel the effect of nearby magic.”

Elijah dragged a hand over his face, smearing away sweat and pushing back wisps of hair. “Masking unpleasant symptoms comes with practice. And there were greater needs than–” He coughed a little again and swallowed once more, attempting to straighten up. “You mentioned Grayson is looking better?”

Ryder paused, feeling something needling in his gut. Something was…  _wrong._  There was an ominous message hidden in Elijah’s tone. But there was no time now to probe it. “Yes. I think he’ll be able to walk. Do you need a moment?”

The guardedness around Elijah’s eyes slipped slightly and someone a bit soft and surprised peered through, someone who seemed taken aback by the gesture of sympathy. Then the moment passed and he lifted his chin determinedly, clearing his throat one final time. “No, I will be alright. We should not linger.”

Ryder nodded. “Best we get out of here as soon as possible. For both of your sakes.”

They found Grayson on his feet, still pale and sweaty, but looking determined. Ryder stayed close by his side as they moved cautiously down the hallway, through the heavy door, and up a winding concrete stairwell full of fresh air and the promise of freedom. Every time Grayson sighed with exhaustion or swallowed heavily, Ryder found his concerned gaze shifting to the broad back ahead of them. But Elijah led them out without once faltering.

* * *

Grayson had never been so grateful to be on a train.

He’d started feeling better as soon as they’d put a few hundred yards between themselves and the parking structure, which had still been ringing with the sounds of magical explosions. But all that running and climbing on top of throwing up every last scrap of his lunch had taken its toll. He was wretchedly exhausted, slumped like a sack of concrete on the train seat, the dregs of that intense magical nausea still curling through his belly.

He felt something warm press into his shoulder and jerked upright, mumbling an apology as he realized he’d fallen against Elijah’s side. But then Elijah’s arm circled his shoulders, with enough gentle space for him to pull away if he wanted to. A second passed and the hug settled, and Elijah gave Grayson a brief but encouraging squeeze. His smile was soft when he met Grayson’s bleary-eyed gaze.

“You are not bothering me.” Elijah murmured a moment later, and he clearly meant it.

Grayson was so shocked he didn’t know what to say. But Elijah was warm and solid and surprisingly soft, and Grayson was so enormously tired. It was almost involuntary, the way he sank gratefully into the embrace. Ryder, who was pacing off his excess nervous energy on the other side of the empty car, paused a moment to smile at them.

The train rattled on. Grayson abruptly remembered the way Elijah had caught him when he’d stumbled back in that complex, the way he’d been bundled along when he’d been so sick he’d scarcely been able to feel his limbs, and said, “Thanks.”

Elijah shifted to look down at him, and Grayson saw the question on his face.

“For helping me back there,” he explained. “You know… you’re the opposite of most gang people I’ve met before.”

Elijah’s brow creased in mild confusion. He opened his mouth, then closed it again, heavy contemplation in his expression, suggesting he wasn’t quite placing Grayson’s meaning. “How so, if I may ask?”

“Well… when I was the gangs, I knew people who… who seemed to care,” said Grayson slowly. “People who seemed friendly. Maybe even fair. Said stuff about loyalty, about having each other’s backs. But turned out they were all about a sack of cash away from leaving their closest friends to die. You, on the other hand… you look tough. Like you’ve seen too much shit. I guess I thought maybe you’d be beyond caring. But you were so nice to Bramley. You stuck your neck out more than you had to in front of Redwine. And you could’ve just kept running, left me behind, but you didn’t.” Grayson cleared his throat. “I guess I just mean… you seem okay.”

A shadow had crossed Elijah’s expression at first, but as Grayson finished, the corner of his mouth quirked in amusement, and his eyes twinkled. “I am quite relieved to no longer be on probation.” His mood turned serious again however and he looked down once more to meet Grayson’s gaze, mulling something over silently before speaking again. “Kindness is often seen as weakness in illicit circles; I am sure you realize that. Displaying it is a risk. Entertaining it is a risk. Risks can turn deadly, destructive…” Elijah sighed faintly. “Behaving in a caring manner means nothing if it places you in the hands of those who would simply use it for ill.”

He paused, looking thoughtful, then added, “When I know someone is trustworthy, I can be myself, without fear of what it might cost.” Then he smiled, warm and earnest, and glanced between Ryder and Grayson.

Grayson felt a little prickle of fondness for Elijah. He returned the smile and said, “Makes sense. Glad we passed the test.”

After a moment of companionable silence, he spoke up again, “Can I ask… how you do it? How you keep that kindness balanced with the need to survive? That’s why I got so desperate to get out of the gangs myself. Because I knew I couldn’t. I was either crying myself to sleep over the rival I killed or I was staring coldly at suffering innocents. I was either trusting people I shouldn’t have or seeing enemies everywhere. It was like I was constantly naive or paranoid, constantly going insane.” He paused and took a short breath. “How do you go from, I dunno, giving Bram a big hug to breaking someone’s neck forty minutes later without losing your mind?”

With a heavy look in his eyes, Elijah stared into empty space for a short while before answering. “At times I think it is merely a matter of experience. When I was much younger, I did struggle greatly, endured much inner conflict. But as I have grown, I have learned to simultaneously expect the worst of people and still err on the side of kindness as much as possible. But ultimately, when faced with a life or death situation, it comes down to one thing.” Darkened blue eyes flitted down to meet Grayson’s. “In most circumstances, it is kill or be killed. Sometimes violence can be avoided. Sometimes there is a third option. But when there is not, you cannot hesitate, because if you do not act to defend yourself, you will be killed. It was a hard truth for me to learn.” Elijah took a deep breath. “In the end, I had to decide which meant more to me, my morals or the ones I love. The answer is the latter, and I am not ashamed for it. And every time I head for the streets, I know there is someone waiting for me to come back.”

“You mean Micah?” Grayson guessed.

Elijah’s expression grew fond and he smiled in amusement again. “Yes. I do believe he has threatened to resurrect and kill me again should I ever fail to return.”

“I can imagine that,” Grayson laughed. “I guess it _is_  different when you have people waiting for you to come back….” He let his sentence trail off in confusion as he felt something gurgling not _in_ his belly, but against it. “That… wasn’t me?”

Elijah’s face had abruptly turned a shade paler. He swallowed uneasily and there was a low groan on his breath just before he admitted, “No. It was me.”

_“You?_  What’s making  _you_  sick?”

Elijah hesitated for a long moment. Then he sighed and lifted the hand that wasn’t still draped around Grayson’s shoulders to rub at his own temple slightly. “I am also a Null. I am still… readjusting.”

Grayson yanked himself halfway out of the hug with shock. He stared at Elijah’s face, looking for the joke, but saw only nausea. “Are you kidding? How were you not as sick as me back there?”

Elijah’s brow pinched with discomfort. “Rest assured I have been very unwell.” The words could have almost been a tongue-in-cheek jest, and may have been intended that way, but the queasy undercurrent in Elijah’s tone dampened the humor quite a bit. “I have a lot of experience with masking unpleasant symptoms, however. I am certain it was merely a result of practice. With how severely I was feeling the effects, I was quite impressed that you kept going as long as you did.”

“Goddesses.” Grayson shook his head incredulously as he settled back against Elijah’s side. “Now I’m a little embarrassed that I puked everywhere while you were plowing on like a freight train! But at least I got everything out. Shit, you’re probably still full from lunch, aren’t you?”

Elijah swallowed. “I think I would prefer not to think of that at the moment.”

“Oh shit. Sorry.” Grayson put a gentle hand against Elijah’s stomach as it gurgled again, the way Ryder had done for him back in the complex. He felt Elijah relax almost immediately, leaning back into the seat with a shaky breath as he closed his eyes.

Something buzzed in Grayson’s pocket. He blinked. In all the excitement, he’d almost forgotten about the message he’d been expecting.

Ryder was still on the other side of the car, not paying attention. Grayson stole a glance up at Elijah and made sure his eyes were still closed before taking out his phone and reading the text.

_I know it’s been awhile. I could see you tomorrow, maybe?_

Grayson had to bite his lip to keep from smiling. He wrote back:  _good because i have had the worst day. will tell you more when I see you but basically i hate magicians._

The response came a minute later:  _Sure you do. When tomorrow? Afternoon?_

_I could_

Elijah shifted suddenly, and Grayson tucked his phone against his chest, glancing up see if he’d been caught. But Elijah was still drowsing. The source of his disturbance became obvious a moment later, when another unhappy gurgle curled through his stomach and a slight wince clouded his face. Grayson frowned and snuggled a little closer to the poor guy, rubbing very gentle circles over Elijah’s belly as he finished his text.

_probably do the afternoon. gotta ask Ryder though. you would not believe the crazy shit thats been happening around here lately._ He hit send just as the train began to slow for what he knew was the marketplace stop.

When they disembarked from the train at the familiar platform, Grayson stepped down first, followed by Ryder, then they both turned back to look at Elijah when he spoke up behind them.

“Forgive me for intruding,” He started as he stepped down off the train, interrupted by a very faint grunt that suggested his stomach didn’t take kindly to the jostling movement. “But I find myself curious as to why a Null would be apprenticed to–” He glanced towards Ryder as the train pulled away, “–a potionry shop?” He left the assumption that Grayson must be miserable encountering magicians day in and day out politefully unspoken.

Ryder laughed at that. “I had agreed to take Grayson as my apprentice before either of us knew he was a Null. For a few weeks, we assumed his bouts of nausea were a product of being unused to three square meals a day. When the reality of the situation became clear, of course I offered to help him find another arrangement. He gave me a look as though I had stabbed him right through the heart.”

Grayson felt his cheeks go red. “Well, I  _liked_ working for you!” he said indignantly. “What did you expect?”

Elijah was giving Grayson an amused look. With a small smile, he teased gently, “I can believe that.”

“It’s not even  _that_ bad when nobody’s casting!” Grayson grumbled as the little group made its way into the market. “I can just suck on some ginger candies and I’m fine. Plus, I usually stay out of the way when customers are around….”  

Neither Elijah nor Ryder argued with him, but he had the feeling they were chuckling all the way back to the tent.

Inside, they were greeted by Micah lighting up and leaping to his feet as his gaze fell upon his friend. “Elijah!”

“Micah.” Elijah moved forward, arms stretching out as Micah catapulted into them, and they both hummed in comfort and relief in the same moment. Micah buried his face in Elijah’s chest and Elijah’s chin sank down over his best friend’s curls, and they hugged like they hadn’t seen each other in a month.

“You look so worn out, El.” Micah mumbled before he pulled back enough to look up into his friend’s face. Elijah smiled faintly.

“I am, rather. I will be alright.” He shook his head with a little snort when Micah ruffled his beard. “It was quite an eventful day.”

“I’m just glad you’re safe.” Micah whispered, taking Elijah’s hand in his and turning it over as though inspecting it. “Any scratches anywhere I should know about?”

“Absolutely not.” Elijah hugged Micah closer again and Micah sighed and sank into the hold and closed his eyes for a moment. Another huge smile lingered on his lips.

Grayson watched all this, thinking about what Elijah had said back on the train.  _Someone waiting for me._ He felt a flicker of warmth in his heart and… something else too. Something that might’ve been longing.

The next moment, he had the breath squeezed right out of him by a pair of strong arms. “Ives! Good to see you alive!”

Grayson wheezed out a breathless laugh and patted Kara on the back. “Thanks. It’s good to  _be_ alive.”

Kara released him and glanced from him to Ryder and Elijah. “How’d it go? Judging by your grim faces and the fact that Bram’s not with you….”

Ryder sighed and sank onto a chair, rubbing a hand over his temple. “Things got complicated.”

Elijah took a deep breath and looked at Kara and Micah in turn. “After we reached Bramley’s gang headquarters and began discussing matters with Cecilia Redwine, their territory came under attack, from what seemed to be a mix of street fighters and magicians. As soon as the attack began, Redwine demanded that we leave the territory and refused to speak further with us. We left, without Bramley, encountered a brief altercation, and returned here.”

Elijah reached up to his hair, which was still tied back in a bun, and took it down, smoothing the strands out carefully before he began twisting the tie back into a ponytail. An expression of deep thought lingered on his face before he spoke again. “It is…  _very_  rare for magicians to be involved at the street level. They deal almost exclusively in azure circles – or, if particularly vile, at the sewer level. If we were able to find out more about  _why_  there would be arcane interest in a small, isolated gang, then we might be able to use that as bargaining leverage with Redwine.” He looked towards Ryder as he finished tying his hair back. “I would hazard a guess that you speak with magicians near daily? Do you have any ideas for where we might go looking to find answers?”

“I serve many magicians, but they know I’m not one of them. I certainly don’t have enough access to the magical sphere to acquire that kind of knowledge. What we need is an  _actual_ magician. One we can… well, if not trust, at least not fear.” Ryder glanced back at Elijah. “I don’t suppose you have any contacts?”

Grayson felt something quiver in his stomach that was totally unrelated to the afternoon’s dose of magic.

Elijah sighed and shook his head. “Unfortunately not. I have a mentor who attempted to initiate me with the magician circles when I was younger, but when it became clear I was a Null and could not work effectively under such circumstances, she assisted me with heightening my gang involvement instead. I am afraid that has been the extent of my contact with those branches of society, save for the occasional smuggling operation. I have not made significant connections on a personal level with anyone.”

_Shit,_ Grayson thought to himself. He wasn’t ready to talk about this yet, but he was going to have to. For Bramley’s sake.

Ryder sighed. “Hmm. This could be complicated. I suppose I could try to call in on some favors I’m owed, but I’m not sure how effective that will be.”

Grayson took a deep breath and cleared his throat. “Uh… maybe I can help.”

All eyes in the room turned to him. He felt himself blush.

_“You_  know a magician?” Kara asked incredulously. “Don’t you get all pukey around magicians?”

Goddesses, she had to bring that up, didn’t she? That only made this confession more awkward. “Uh – a little, but – I do know one. A guy I’ve… been seeing….”

Ryder looked puzzled. “Seeing? Seeing him around?”

Kara, on the other hand, looked delighted. “Or do you mean seeing him without his clothes on?”

That got a rise out of the room. Ryder looked stunned, Elijah mildly uncomfortable, and Micah let out a bark of laughter. Grayson felt his face go even redder.

“I see him with his clothes on too!” he protested, before slapping a hand over his mouth at how stupid that had sounded. “Aw, fuck….”

Micah grinned devilishly. “Really? I bet there’s not much competition for which way you’d  _rather_ see him though…”

Grayson felt his ears fold back a little as Kara giggled and gave Micah a high five. He loved his friends, but there were reasons he’d been keeping his little secret to himself. One of which was the way Kara seemed unable to stop laughing. The other was the look of deep concern in Ryder’s eyes.

“Grayson,” he said gravely, “are you sure this person is safe?”

Grayson shrugged, feeling a little attacked. “As safe as anyone else down here? Look, I get it. Nobody trusts magicians. But people on the surface don’t trust Underground folks, and it’s mostly just ‘cause they don’t know us! I don’t see why it’s any different with magicians.”

Across the room, Elijah’s expression turned grim. His hands curled slightly as he spoke. “I am afraid you are gravely mistaken.”

He took a breath to continue, then paused, glancing to the side towards Micah, who had fixed him with a wide-eyed stare. The obvious desire to shelter him battled with the need to speak frankly in the moment of Elijah’s hesitation before he sighed and kept going, looking back to Grayson.

“I am not certain if you understand how the surface world functions, but society lies entirely in the iron fist of the government’s, and it is largely the fault of magicians in the azure circles. Their ability to identify, track, and persecute anyone who causes too much ‘trouble’ in the eyes of the political elite keeps them wealthy and untouchable, meanwhile the citizenry is carefully pruned back if ever a particular individual or group steps too far out of line. This power has been used to stage convenient accidents, murders, and even suppress public outcry.”

Grayson paused uncomfortably. “Look, I’ve – I’ve  _heard_  that some magicians use their powers to do really awful things. But it’s not like they’re all that bad!”

Elijah’s lips tightened and  _fear_ flashed in his eyes. He looked towards Micah anxiously, who had looked away to watch the others with the obvious confusion of someone not quite following the conversation. Elijah dragged his gaze back to Grayson and pressed, “The very nature of magician society makes it near impossible to know a trustworthy magician from a spy. Oftentimes,  _they_ cannot even tell the difference, among each other. Are you truly willing to risk the safety of everyone here, including the very person you are trying to save, on a  _statistic?”_

That made the dregs of nausea still lingering in Grayson’s belly stir a little. He swallowed hard. “Shit. Okay. I… see your point….” He glanced from Elijah to Ryder, trying not to show how miserable he suddenly felt. “I mean – I’ve known him for a few weeks and he hasn’t ever done anything to hurt me?” His voice came out cracked and quiet. “I… kinda really like him….”

“He may very well be trustworthy,” said Ryder gently. “However, you’ve got to be on your guard. Any discussion of the situation with him should happen here, I think, with at least Elijah and me present.”

Elijah’s sudden agitation seemed to have eased, not least of all for the way his eyes had softened when he’d heard Grayson’s voice dip despairingly, and he took a slow breath, making an effort to relax further. “I think that is a reasonable approach. I believe we would be able to question him effectively, and since you have gotten to know him at least somewhat, Grayson, you would be able to let us know if his answers and responses seem genuine.”

“That is,” Ryder added, “if you think your boyfriend would actually–”

“He’s  _not_ my boyfriend.” The words came out of Grayson’s mouth before he could make them sound a little less embarrassingly defensive.

Ryder cleared his throat and tried again. “If you think your… romantic interest… would–”

Micah grinned suddenly, apparently having identified a way he could re-enter the conversation with flying colors. “Hey, so what’s your not-boyfriend’s name?”

Elijah stepped closer to Micah and ensnared him in an embrace, tucking him against his chest with an apologetic glance in Ryder’s direction. Micah squeaked but didn’t fight the hug, though he pulled on Elijah’s wrist a little so he could peer towards Grayson mischievously again.

Grayson felt himself blushing all over again. “Uh… his name is Elliott.”

This time, Ryder’s throat-clearing bordered more on an insistent cough. “And you think Elliott would actually agree to let us question him?”

“Not sure. But it doesn’t hurt to ask, I guess.”

Kara snickered. “And if he says no, you can bribe him with a little–”

“I’ll text him right now,” Grayson said loudly, pulling out his phone. “Uh… how soon do we want to do this?”

Elijah patted Micah once before releasing him, sliding a hand into his pocket for his own cell, apparently checking his schedule. After a moment of squinting at the device, he asked, “Is two days from now too soon? I have commitments to attend to for a stretch of time after these next two days, and my class schedule is not terribly permissive early in the week. Micah and I will both be available Friday afternoon, around the same time that we were today.”

Grayson waited for Ryder to nod his approval before saying, “Okay. I’ll ask Elliott if he’s free.”

Elijah nodded, putting away his phone, a hand wandering to his brow as he did so. He rubbed once at his eyes, then straightened back up to gaze across the room. “In all honesty, I am certain getting to the bottom of this as quickly as possible can only be beneficial.”

“I agree,” said Ryder. “But for now, perhaps it’s time for the two of you to head home? It’s been a long day.”

“It has.” Elijah nodded, looking down at Micah, who grinned at him before seeming to remember something. He turned his head and bounded over to Kara to wrap her in a big hug, then gave Grayson one too with equal enthusiasm.

“It was really fun seeing you guys again.” Micah beamed as he pulled back, his eyes lingering softly on Grayson for a moment. Then he giggled and looked at Kara. “Thanks for letting me hang out!”

She flashed him a thumbs up. “Anytime, kid. Anytime.”

Ryder got up to give Elijah a warm handshake. “Thank you very much for your help today.” His voice dropped to a private murmur, but Grayson still overheard him add, “And perhaps make yourself some strong tea and take a nap when you get home.”

Elijah blinked in surprise, but then sighed very softly, shoulders tilting ever so slightly forward in a way that betrayed the fatigue he was hiding. He nodded again and whispered back, “Thank you. I believe I will.”

A nap wasn’t a bad idea, Grayson thought. It wasn’t until Elijah and Micah had left the tent that he realized how exhausted he felt, not least because Kara came up to pat him on the back and say, “You look like crap, Ives.”

“I kinda feel like crap.” He rubbed a hand over his eyes. “Think I’m gonna go lie down. It’s been a long day….”

And it wasn’t over yet. In the candlelit gloom of Ryder’s spare room, Grayson pulled out his phone and opened the message from Elliott he still hadn’t read.

_You can tell me all about this so-called crazy shit when you see me._

After a few long minutes of thought, he typed out a response:  _funny story. i might have sort of just dragged you into it…_

* * *

Elijah was halfway through putting together a mug of tea when he felt eyes on him and turned to look at Micah, who had plopped on the couch as soon as they’d gotten home. His best friend was looking at him shrewdly, and Elijah sighed, dropping a second tea bag into his mug to strengthen it. “I suppose I should assume you have questions.”

“Yeah, a few.” Micah answered after a moment, uncharacteristically slow to speak. “First of all… are you feeling okay?”

“Not particularly.” Elijah said tiredly, putting away the box of tea bags and closing the cabinet.

“Your tummy’s bothering you?” Micah sniffed at the air, evidently having noticed the ginger. “Is that why you look so damn exhausted?”

Elijah considered the still-fading nausea and the deep, pinched soreness in his belly that came of fighting for hours to keep a meal down. He rubbed at his eyes. “Most likely.”

“You gonna tell me why?”

“Yes.” Elijah leaned back against the counter in thought, crossing his arms slowly. “It is… a bit difficult to explain, however. Micah, do you know what it means to be a ‘Null?’ Have you heard the term at all before?”

“That was one of my other questions.” Micah said dryly, and Elijah nodded. He’d suspected so.

“A Null is someone born without the ability to use magic.”

Micah wrinkled his nose in confusion. “Someone who’s not a magician?”

“No, not exactly. With the exception of Nulls, every living person has the  _ability_ to use magic. The ability is there from birth, but it takes a special set of circumstances to be able to access it. In the magician community, they induce the ability at a young age so it can be trained and monitored closely. But Nulls lack a personal magical aura entirely.”

“So… why haven’t I heard of it before? And what does that have to do with your tummy being sick?” Micah scratched at his curls, eyeing Elijah worriedly, probably wondering why he hadn’t come over to the couch yet. In truth, Elijah wanted to get a little of the tea down before he got climbed on too much.

“Nulls are very rare. I have never met another before Grayson.” Elijah picked up his mug of tea and gave it a little swirl, sipping at the steaming contents carefully. The hot, soothing liquid coated his throat and pooled its warmth in his stomach, drawing a sigh of relief from him as the lingering queasy tendrils began to slowly recede. “And since most of surface culture does not access their magic to begin with, many Nulls who are out there may never even realize they lack the ability.”

Elijah paused to give Micah a moment to process that, and also so he could take another swallow of the tea. He felt his eyelids drooping slightly as the warmth filled him further and smoothed away the nagging sickness he’d been battling all afternoon. He’d managed to keep it hidden until the fight… then the rigorous movement had almost been too much for his churning insides. Ryder’s concern had surprised him…

Elijah lowered the mug and met his best friend’s gaze again. “Once a person taps into their magical aura and becomes a magician, it changes the way they interact with the world. Their life-force becomes… ‘energized,’ in a sense, by their magic. Their newly-empowered life force has no effect on a typical individual with their own ‘dormant’ magic, but Nulls lack a personal magical barrier. As such, the Null life-force is sent into disarray in close proximity to magicians. Nausea is the most immediate symptom, but prolonged exposure leads to headache, fatigue, muscle-aches, fever, and even hallucinations and delirium in the worst of cases.”

Micah gaped at him. “So how many ways are you fucked up right  _now?”_

“Only the nausea and a bit of a headache.” Elijah assured him quickly, emptying the last sips of his mug and setting it in the sink. “And both are fading significantly at this point.”

“You dumbass.” Micah growled and lifted his hands encouragingly. “Get over here.”

Elijah felt the exhaustion dragging him down as he crossed the room and sank into Micah’s arms, curling around his best friend with care so he wouldn’t lean on him too heavily. He nestled his head gratefully at the crook of Micah’s neck, then groaned in relief as a hand pushed up soothingly into the arch of his belly and began to rub away the soreness with a warm pressure.

Micah patted his back affectionately when Elijah mumbled his thanks into his shoulder. “So if Grayson keeps dating this Elliott guy, is he gonna feel sick around him all the time? That’s gotta be miserable though, right?”

Elijah blinked sleepy eyes. “No, Nulls can grow acclimated to specific magicians. After spending a number of weeks around each other, the magician’s energy will become so familiar to a Null that it can even grow to be a comfort. Judging from Grayson’s description of their relationship, they may be approaching that point if they have not already reached it.”

Micah gave him a look. “When we go down on Friday to meet him, are  _you_ gonna feel sick around him?”

Elijah covered a yawn. “Most likely. I doubt it will pose much of a problem, though. When a magician is not actively casting, or using their magic, the effects are not nearly as severe.”

Micah fell silent for a while and Elijah rested, settled comfortably in the cuddle while Micah rubbed his back and stomach soothingly. Elijah was almost asleep, when—

“Is all that stuff you said about the government really true?”

Elijah rubbed a thumb over the top of Micah’s knee. “We have talked about this before.”

“Not this specific part of it.” Micah muttered, nudging Elijah’s elbow out of the way a little so he could massage his lower belly easier. “Geez you’re all cramped up…”

Elijah struggled not to fade into a haze of relief. “Do you understand what I meant when I mentioned the azure circles and the sewer level?”

“Aren’t ‘azure’ people those really rich folks?”

“Yes.” Elijah squirmed as Micah’s fingers worked out the edge of an ache in his side. “The political, arcane, and citizenry elite. They control most of the city.”

“And the ‘sewer’ level…?”

“They…” Elijah squinted against a growing pressure. “Um…”

His answer was interrupted as he swiftly covered his mouth to muffle a deep burp that rumbled up from the pit of his stomach. Once it was out, his entire belly relaxed in relief and he groaned softly, sagging against Micah’s side, ignoring his best friend’s giggles.

“You poor bastard, that must have been sitting in your tummy all day.” Micah reached for his hair tie and gently pulled it loose, combing his fingers through the strands of Elijah’s hair. “Feel better?”

“Mmhmm.” Elijah nestled closer and closed his eyes. Micah’s hand stroked up and down his back. “The ‘sewer’ level is named somewhat metaphorically. It is typically used in reference to government spies and handlers and trafficking rings. They are considered most ‘evil’ by other criminal organizations, such as the gangs and drugs operations, which are usually referred to as the ‘street’ level.”

“You sound so tired, El.” Micah pressed his cheek against his forehead and Elijah sighed, feeling loved. “I think I got it. We can talk about it more later if we need to. I think you should take a nap.”

“Was a long day.” Elijah mumbled into his best friend’s shoulder, earning another pat to the back.

“Yeah, I can tell. Get some rest, okay? I’ll watch some TV or something.”

Elijah felt his awareness fading. “Wake me up when it starts getting dark?”

Micah laughed. “I’ll  _try._ No promises though.”

Another soft circle rubbed over his middle was the last thing Elijah felt before he fell asleep.

* * *

“So, Grayson’s sleeping with a guy who could possibly be unspeakably dangerous. Is anyone surprised?”

Ryder spared Kara the briefest of glances. All this adventuring meant he was quite behind on his actual work. “I was.”

“Well,  _okay.”_  Kara lolled back on the couch to cast him a dramatic glance. “But you’re _you.”_

Ryder acknowledged this with a tip of his head before turning his attention back to his work.

After a moment of silence, Kara cleared her throat. “Micah mentioned something to me today. He said he thinks Elijah might be like you.”

That made Ryder look up. “What?”

“Aro-ace,” Kara clarified, rather needlessly as Ryder had already known what she’d meant. “He said he thinks of himself and Elijah as Kindred, although Elijah’s kind of wary around labels like that, apparently.”

It made sense, Ryder realized. The warm way they looked at each other. The way they touched, familiar but not hungry. The only reason he hadn’t seen it before was that he’d never imagined it could be there. “I’ve never met anyone else who called themselves….”

“Neither have they, probably.” Kara smiled crookedly at him. “Maybe it’s time you introduced them to your–” she held up her hands to form air quotes “–close friend.”

“Hmm.” Ryder pressed a hand thoughtfully over his chin, unable to keep himself from smiling. “Si’s been so busy lately. Even I haven’t seen them in more than a week.”

“Well, get them down here! I’m sure they’d have a lot to say about everything that’s happened. And you know they’d love Micah and Elijah.”

“Hmph. I can imagine Si being a horrible influence on poor young Micah.” Ryder shook his head, but the mental image was nearly driving him to laughter. Si would get along wonderfully with Micah. And if Elijah truly was like him… if he and Micah truly were Kindred….

Ryder and Si had never met anyone quite like themselves.

“I’ll talk to Si about it when I see them next,” said Ryder. “I don’t know when that will be, but… soon.”

Kara beamed. “That’s a relief, ‘cause I pretty much already promised Micah he’d get to meet them.” She laughed at the stern look Ryder gave her. “Aren’t you glad you’ve got me to coordinate your social life, Ryder?”

“Overjoyed,” he said dryly, but the smile playing over his lips didn’t fade as he turned back to his work.


	3. Cooking Up A Plan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Grayson brings Elliott to meet Ryder and the others, but tensions are running high. Kara's cooking can hopefully soothe a few nerves though... and maybe a few belly rubs can soothe Kara’s cooking.

It was a comfortable chair, at least. Much more comfortable than the literal garbage he’d scavenged for his own place all those months ago, and which he still had not come into the money to replace. The man who owned this tent — the shorter yet older of the two men sitting in front of him, he had gathered, the one who matched Grayson’s description of his mentor — had good taste in furniture. Unfortunately, he was also wearing a horrible sweater vest and a subtly magnanimous smile.

“Thank you for coming, Elliott,” the man said in a voice as maddeningly ingratiating as his face. “Please make yourself comfortable. My name is Ryder, and this is Elijah.” He tipped his head in the direction of the much taller man, who nodded solemnly in greeting.

“I know who you are.” The words came out blunt and irritable, sharpened by a mix of habit and nerves. Over Ryder’s shoulder, Elliott could see Grayson’s ears twitch and his face twist to bite the corner of his lip, and Elliott felt a slight pang of guilt. Grayson had asked him several times if he was  _ sure  _ this arrangement was all right. “My friends are nice,” he’d said, “but, uh — I guess they’re gonna be wary, like they might not trust you right away.”

“Of course they won’t,” Elliott had said, ruffling his feathers. “I’m a magician.” And then he’d agreed to speak to Grayson’s friends without further thought as to what it would be like to come out of the tiny circle of people he saw semi-regularly, with his worn clothes and gaunt face, and remember all too clearly his new place in the world. He was street-level Elliott — too dangerous for sympathy and too pathetic for respect, stripped of the azure privilege he’d been born into. He was a mockery of the ideal to which he’d been raised to hold himself. Which was not, of course, a bad thing. But it was an  _ uncomfortable _ thing, more uncomfortable than he’d anticipated.

He should’ve thought more about this before agreeing. But he’d just wanted to make Grayson happy. In the couple short months since they’d met, Elliott’s life had been moving slowly but steadily from grueling to tolerable. Possibly even enjoyable, at times. Those times namely being the moments in which he’d found himself lying in a tangle of blankets, feeling the soft rumble of Grayson’s sleepy purrs against his chest — the moments when Grayson’s fingers found the spot between his shoulder blades, where the weight of his wings made the muscles ache, and began to rub in soft, affectionate circles — the moment, just last week, when they had been walking down a quiet alleyway and Grayson had casually slipped his fingers between Elliott’s and squeezed.

It was because of all those moments that Elliott took a slow breath and said to Ryder, “But thank you for the introduction anyway.”

“I am certain this—“ Elijah motioned to the sitting arrangement, himself, and Ryder by way of explanation. “—seems rather unorthodox for a first meeting, but we were hoping to speak with you privately at first. Did Grayson tell you why we asked that you come?”

“He didn’t tell me much.” Elliott caught Grayson’s eye again, feeling a little relieved when the feliken flashed him a quick smile. “Only that his friends urgently needed advice from someone in the magical community.”

“That is correct.” The tall man — Elijah — spoke calmly, and though his eyes watched Elliott closely, he could see neither sympathy nor accusation in them. He seemed very professional, Elliott thought. He, at least, would be easy to work with. Elijah continued, “We would like to know a bit more about you before we share the details of our endeavors. Firstly, what is your affiliation?”

The words struck something tightly strung in Elliott’s chest, and he forgot momentarily about being polite. “I suppose you recognize my last name.”

Elijah didn’t flinch at his sudden change in tone. “I do.” He rested one hand, palm up, atop the table -- a diplomatic gesture. “You undoubtedly realize why we need to be cautious in sharing sensitive information with anyone, particularly someone of your heritage. The name ‘Vale’ alone raises some concerns about who this information may travel back to, depending on your personal connections.”

“I don’t talk to them anymore.” Elliott’s voice came out as hard and cold as stone.

He saw Ryder and Elijah exchange glances. Elijah was the one to speak. “By ‘them,’ I suppose we can assume you are referring to your immediate family? How long have you been out of contact with them?”

“I don’t know. Months?” That was a lie; Elliott did know exactly, down to the hour, when he had made his escape. “What’s it to you?”

_ “Elliott.” _ Grayson’s upset voice cut through the swell of Elliott’s burgeoning anger, bringing with it another pang of guilt. “Come on. They don’t mean any harm!”

“It is alright, Grayson.” Elijah reassured him. He didn’t look away from Elliott, but his otherwise professional tone took on a softer note. “No reason to worry.”

Ryder spoke up then. “Grayson, why don’t you go see how things are going outside? You can come back and let us know whether Bramley has arrived yet.”

Grayson’s eyes flickered from his mentor’s gaze to Elliott’s, and they were wide with a question. Just the fact that he cared made Elliott’s throat feel tight.

In truth, he desperately did not want to be left alone with these strange people in this strange room to confront the new and overwhelming strangeness of his life. But he forced himself to give the smallest of nods. Grayson flashed him a tiny smile in return before turning to go, and Elliott swallowed hard as he watched the tip of that soft, fluffy tail whisk out of sight between the tent flaps.

- - -

Kara laughed and grabbed Micah’s hands, stopping him from squishing the lump of dough he’d just rolled out back up into a ball. “What are you doing, kid? It looks just fine!”

Micah pouted and looked between his partly-misshapen creation and Kara’s neat, expertly-rolled mini pizzas. “It’s not really  _ round _ . Like yours are.”

“So what if it’s not a perfect circle? It’ll still taste good.” She poked her finger into one side of the dough. “Hmm. You wanna get this edge a bit flatter, so it’ll bake evenly all around. But you’re almost there.”

Micah gave her a crooked grin and lifted one shoulder in a half shrug. “I really appreciate you trying to teach me and all -- and it’s fun! -- but maybe it’d be better if you took over? I don’t wanna mess things up.”

“Aww, you’re  _ not _ gonna mess anything up.” Kara gave him a floury pat on the back. “You’ve almost got it right! Have a little faith in yourself and roll that edge flatter.”

“Yes ma’am.” Micah said jokingly with a small giggle, and with only slight hesitation, reached for the rolling pin and positioned it carefully. He worked it back and forth over the edge until Kara gave her approval, then helped her prep the baking tray to go in the oven.

“Can you grab that basket of toppings on the far counter?” Kara smiled as Micah immediately passed it over. “Let’s see… I’m thinking we’ll make a couple with sausage, ‘cause that’s Grayson’s favorite. Ryder’s a fan of mushrooms… what do you and Elijah like on pizza?”

“El likes ham and spinach.” Micah peered into the basket over Kara’s arm. “I like pepperoni and pineapple! Neither of us are picky though.”

“Hmm, and I suppose neither of us know what this Bramley kid is going to like.” Kara frowned. “I guess we could leave some plain cheese. But I really want to make him something he’s gonna love, you know?”

Micah turned his head towards Ryder’s tent, a smile spreading over his face. “Grayson’s coming over this way. Maybe he knows?”

“Hey guys.” Grayson let himself into the back area of Kara’s stall and plopped his elbows on the counter, leaning forward with a sigh.

“You look upset.” Kara shoved a basket of fresh chocolate chip muffins at him. “Things getting tense in there?”

Grayson sighed and nodded as he picked up a muffin. “Elliott is… uhhh… stressed. Maybe not making the best impression.”

“I still can’t believe you’re dating a  _ magician. _ ” Kara said it laughingly, but she felt a little pang of genuine worry. Everyone knew that magicians were dangerous, and as much as she loved Grayson, his judgment could be… well, she was glad that Ryder and Elijah were vetting this guy. “Especially considering you’re a Null! Are you sure you didn’t meet him and think you had butterflies in your tummy when really you were just queasy?”

Grayson groaned. “Very funny.”

Micah’s brow pinched. “I asked Elijah if he’d get sick around Elliott and he said like, maybe? Did he look like he was feeling bad in there?”

“He looked fine to me,” said Grayson. “It’s really not too bad when you’re just hanging around a magician who isn’t casting.”

Micah gave a faint sigh and shook his head. “He’s really damn good at hiding things like that, though. Guess I can ask him when he comes back out.” Then Micah smirked slightly. “Unless he doesn’t want any snacks, then he’s definitely sick.”

“What are you guys making?”

“Mini pizzas!” Micah passed a bowl of shredded cheese to Kara. “And then we’ve also got—“ He squinted at some twisted strands of dough on the other side of the counter. “Kara said they’re like, gonna be cinnamon donuts? I’ve always seen round donuts with a hole in the middle though.”

“The twisted shape allows the donuts to roll over while they’re frying,” Kara explained with a smile. “So we don’t have to turn ‘em ourselves.”

“And there’s also some dried fruit over there.” Micah pointed to a bowl on the counter they’d filled earlier. “And some… peanuts somewhere.”

“They’re piquanuts, actually.” Kara retrieved the bowl and set that in front of Grayson too. “I didn’t realize folks aboveground don’t really get them.”

“They’re missing out.” Grayson dug a handful out of the bowl and popped a couple in his mouth. “This all looks so great! Thank you guys for cooking.”

Micah chuckled and rolled his eyes good-naturedly. “ _ Kara _ is mostly the one cooking.”

“You know me. I’m here to keep my friends’ bellies full.” Kara turned back to the pizzas, which Micah had just finished covering in cheese. “You don’t happen to know what Bramley likes on his pizza, do you?”

“No clue.” Grayson’s brow wrinkled slightly. “He should be getting here soon. I hope he’s not lost…”

Right on cue, Kara spotted a burly shape melt out of a throng of people browsing closer to the main part of the market. That  _ had  _ to be Bramley, she thought. If she hadn’t met Elijah, he would’ve been the biggest person she’d ever seen.

She nudged Grayson’s shoulder, and his face lit up when he spotted his friend. “Bram! Hey! Over here!”

Bramley spotted them, and a look of relief crossed his face. Kara found it hard to believe this guy was in a gang as he approached them shyly, eyes turned downward and shoulders drawn in as though he could make himself smaller. No wonder the poor thing wanted out.

He relaxed considerably when Grayson sprang up to greet him with a one-armed hug. Kara, recognizing a hugger when she saw one, skipped the handshake and wrapped her arms as far around him as they could go.

“Nice to meet you, Bramley,” she said, giving him a squeeze. “I’m Kara.”

“I’m Micah.” Micah hopped up and offered a big hug as well, grinning from ear to ear.

“Good to meet you both,” said Bramley with a tentative smile. Then he glanced at Grayson. “Is Ryder…?”

“He’s in his tent, talking with Elijah and, uh… someone who might be able to help us.” Grayson rubbed a hand through his hair, ears twitching. “They’ll all be out soon.”

“Sit down and have some snacks in the meantime.” Kara dragged a couple of the stools she kept in a corner of her stall up the counter. “Are you hungry? I bet they don’t feed you enough in that gang of yours, huh?”

Bramley didn’t confirm or deny this, but she could tell from the way he licked his lips as his eyes roamed over the food that he was hungry. She pushed the basket of muffins and the bowl of dried fruit his way. “We’ll have donuts soon, I’m just waiting until the oil gets hot enough to fry them. And what do you like on your pizza?”

His eyes went wide. “Anything.”

Kara chuckled. “What do you like  _ best?  _ We’ve got sausage, peppers, mushrooms, onion, ham…”

“Um… I like all kinds of meat.” Bramley picked up a muffin to take a big bite, and Kara grinned inwardly at the way his eyes briefly closed in pleasure at the taste. “Feels like forever since I had pizza,” he added. 

“What, really?” Micah looked surprised. “How come you don’t get pizza very much?”

“Bad food in the gangs.” Now that Bramley had started eating, he seemed to have forgotten his shyness. The first muffin disappeared in two big bites, and he reached immediately for a second. “Haven’t had pizza since I lived on the surface. And even then, it was a treat.”

Micah seemed to mull that over, looking as if he were trying hard to remember something. “When… Elijah and I talked to Ryder for the first time, Ryder said that you’d joined the gang to help support your family?”

Kara chuckled under her breath. As Ryder told the story, it had been  _ Elijah _ doing most of the talking while Micah had been sprawled on his big friend’s lap, too dazed by how much he’d eaten to participate much in the conversation.

Bramley swallowed his mouthful of muffin and nodded. “Not much work out where my family lives. I came to Central City to find a job and send money home. But bad people found me first. I thought the gang who rescued me couldn’t be so bad.” 

Micah smiled, concern in his eyes, but his voice cheerful as always. “Gang stuff is… intense. But you’ll get out of there soon, hopefully.” He snagged the bowl of piquanuts and fished out a handful before passing them over to Bramley. “And then when you have more free time, maybe you could come hang out with me and El sometime? We know lots of great pizza places to go to. And Elijah’s really good at making pizza, too!”

As Bramley and Micah spoke, Kara noticed Grayson slowly rising from his stool. He caught Kara’s eye, jerked his head towards Bramley, and mouthed the words,  _ Take care of him. _

She gave him a wink and a nod, and he smiled at her before turning to head back to Ryder’s tent.

- - -

When Grayson reentered the tent, Elijah was torn between relief and concern.

The subtle glance he managed to sneak in Grayson’s direction told him that the feliken had presumably gotten into whatever snacks were out there. Grayson was dusting crumbs from his cheek, and the faint smile he’d worn as he’d come back in was fading as he took in Elliott’s dour expression.

Elliott’s disposition had immediately deteriorated — not that he hadn’t clearly already felt uncomfortable at best and hostile at worst — as soon as his partner had left, and wasn’t showing signs of improvement even now that Grayson had come back in. Elijah bit back a sigh. They were not making much progress. And Elliott’s magical aura had stirred a slight, distracting queasiness in Elijah’s stomach from the moment they’d been introduced. Elijah could tell from that alone that Elliott was skilled and possibly quite powerful.

Thankfully, he had few remaining doubts that Elliott had any harmful  _ intentions _ . Elijah’s questions regarding the magician’s previous associations had been met with sullen defensiveness and barely-concealed hisses of anger; behaviors that no self-respecting sewer-level magician would let slip, let alone broadcast.

And it wasn’t just that Elliott was so obviously not equipped with the guile and charisma of a well-seasoned deceiver, but also the fact that while Grayson  _ had _ been there, and now that he had returned, Elliott had been catching his eye at every opportunity. For reassurance, Elijah would guess. That spoke of nervousness, even a desire to please. No matter how sharp the edge of his tongue or how cold and narrow his eyes were, Elliott was giving Elijah every reason to believe he meant them no true harm. As long as he did not maintain connections to his family’s name or power, he was, in all likelihood, safe to consult for advice.

But they  _ had _ to be sure. One wrong move with the wrong magician looking over your shoulder could spell disaster.

Elijah refocused on Elliott across from him, not bothering to hide the fact that he’d been momentarily distracted by Grayson’s return. No sense in being  _ too _ guarded. This conversation was happening so they could interact with Elliott as a friend, not an enemy. (A goal that was clearly not yet mutual.) “So, as you were saying, your severed contact with the Vale family name has been all-encompassing. You retain no professional or financial ties with them, nor to their satellite interests in azure circles.”

“That’s right.” The words were practically spat out.

Elijah ignored the acidity in Elliott’s voice, satisfied with the conviction underneath. “I am inclined to believe you. However, regardless of your personal choices, it is rare for those in azure power to relinquish their connections easily. Are you certain they do not continue to monitor your activities from afar?”

There was a sudden thinness in the air, like the sea receding before a great wave. Elijah didn’t have time to process what that meant before the wave broke—an unnatural breeze that rippled outwards, scarcely strong enough to stir strands of hair and yet still imbued with a raw, tangible power.

In the epicenter of the blast, Elliott sat pale-faced and shook with anger. His voice was a low snarl:  _ “Do you think I would let that happen?” _

Elijah’s guard had been down, and he flinched away so violently from the angry crackle of magic that he felt his knee bang painfully against the underside of the low table and pure horror flash across his expression before he could rein his reaction back in. Then came the wave of intense illness as Elliott’s magic penetrated the room around him.

Elijah briefly shut his eyes, blocking out the sharp glances he was certain Ryder and Grayson were giving him in concern, to give himself a couple of precious seconds to swallow hard, desperately keeping his elbows locked so he wouldn’t reflexively clutch at his stomach. He hadn’t really eaten that much that day anyways, but it was surprisingly hard to hold onto with the surge of magical nausea compounding the grotesque memories that rushed through his mind’s eye.

_ One had a gap-toothed, rowdy grin and had called him a crybaby more than once but had also told him to stand behind her when the bosses came through. The other’s freckled hand had twisted, his fingers curling in a mockery of life, sightless eyes staring forever upwards. Elijah remembered the taste of his own screams as he choked on them _ .

Two seconds had passed, and Elijah forced his eyes open again. He took a breath, and momentarily pulled back the hand he’d grasped at the edge of the table with, to hide the tremor in his fingers. He met Elliott’s gaze and held it, as seriously as he could, without necessarily pretending the outburst or his reaction hadn’t just happened.

“I apologize.” Elijah offered, swallowing hard just afterwards, fighting back against another squeeze in his belly. It hurt, and a vile feeling of pins and needles was creeping up his esophagus. He felt dizzy. The room was spinning. He was too hot and there was a shiver along his shoulders. “I did not intend to make uncomfortable or upsetting implications.” He took a deep breath and leaned forward onto his arms on the table carefully, pressing closer to the terribly nauseating aura of magic. He opened his hands in appeal, a gesture meant to show he was no threat.

“Please understand that none of these questions are meant antagonistically or mockingly. I realize that this is likely a difficult subject to talk about, and I am not trying to make this unduly unpleasant.” Elijah allowed himself a very small sigh. “Evidence would suggest that I am doing a poor job of that.” He had to stop to swallow hard again, though the nausea was receding ever so slightly now that the ripples of Elliott’s magic were beginning to fade. “But there are vulnerable people in this situation. People who could come to severe harm if you are not who you say you are. This is--” Elijah gestured, again, to the small gathering of them inside the tent. “Intended protectively, not aggressively; we  _ want _ to be able to trust you. To that end, I need to ask a few more questions. But I do not want to cause you undue distress.”

His words seemed to have pacified Elliott somewhat. The fury was fading from his expression to expose a deep unhappiness underneath. His voice held a touch of embarrassment as he said, “I understand why you’re concerned. Of course. I… I… have gone to great lengths to try to ensure that—that what you suggested is not the case. It’s hard for me to say anything with absolute certainty, because… well, if you’ve heard about my family, you can guess. But I… imagine that if they… if they knew where I was, they would have already made a move.” He shook his feathers a little, as though he were ridding himself of the thought. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to lose control like that.”

Ryder spoke up. “I know it was unintentional, but it would be best if we could be very careful with magic out of consideration for the Nulls in the room.”

“I’m alright.” Elijah glanced over to see Grayson flashing a weak smile and a thumbs up. He didn’t look nearly as bad as Elijah felt; the time he’d spent around Elliott must have already begun to acclimate him to the signature of his magic. “Really.”

Elliott’s look of sheepishness deepened. “Sorry.” His eyes flickered briefly to Elijah’s face and he added, “To both of you.”

Elijah nodded as benignly as he could, secretly heartened to see anything other than acrimony in Elliott’s expression. “It happens. Thank you for your consideration.” On some level, he was also relieved to see his diplomacy hadn’t been misplaced the entire time. Elliott wasn’t snappish and surly because of a lack of care, but rather, because he  _ did _ care, mostly for his own stakes of course -- but that was better, safer, than no investment at all.

Elijah took another slow breath, swallowing one final time. His stomach still churned, but miserably now, not dangerously. He resisted the urge to rub at his eyes. “Instead of continuing to question you about your previous connections, may I ask about your current ones? Once you set out on your own, was there anyone who offered you guidance that enabled you to begin building your resources? It is difficult to get very far in most illicit circles as an individual, without even a temporary mentor.”

“You’re not wrong.” Elliott’s gaze fell briefly to the floor. “I still don’t have many contacts. Or resources, for that matter. Those that I do have, I owe almost entirely to crossing paths with a woman named Rhea Ember.”

Elijah let his brows raise hopefully. “I know that name.”

Ryder turned to look at him. “In what context, may I ask?”

“Rhea Ember is somewhat known for assisting magicians — and others from stringent circles — with making their disappearances and subsuming into street-level society, for a multitude of reasons.” Elijah paused, wondering if it was a good idea to give evidence of his personal feelings, but decided at this point, doing so could hardly cause any harm. “I have a very high respect for Ms. Ember. Not only do I find her motivations for what she does honorable, but she is one of the few individuals in illicit society whose reputation depends on mutual gain rather than traded favors. I find that speaks of extreme resourcefulness and intelligence.” 

Elijah turned his attention back to Elliott. “What is more, I have relative confidence that Ms. Ember would not offer assistance to someone whose connections could draw harm to herself or her network.” Elijah allowed the smallest flicker of a relieved smile to cross his face. “That suggests it is very likely those connections have truly been severed.” He meant it for Elliott’s reassurance just as much as their own.

“I fucking hope so.” Elliott muttered those words under his breath, as though he hadn’t meant to say them aloud, and the barest flicker of embarrassment passed over his face as he seemed to realize it had been audible.

Elijah’s words had clearly reassured him, however. The tense lines of his body relaxed, and he slumped back in his chair as he went on, “Ms. Ember saved my skin. Thanks to her help, I’ve been able to get a little work as an alchemist.”

“Ah.” Ryder’s eyes seemed to glimmer with interest. “I imagine that is how you crossed paths with Grayson. I often ask him to make speciality deliveries to alchemy shops.”

Elliott’s cheeks went very slightly red. “Something like that.”

Elijah leaned back in his own chair, pushed away the still-lingering nausea, and focused -- letting himself study Elliott,  _ really _ study him, for the first time, without worrying about simple things like manners or awkward silence.

Elijah thought of all the things that could happen to the small group he found himself in the midst of, if he judged Elliott trustworthy and turned out to be wrong. It would be far worse than Bramley simply not gaining his freedom. If Elliott was not who he said he was, trusting him could be a matter of life or death.

Elliott’s body language had been easy to read, nearly transparent, throughout the entire conversation. Nervous and defensive when answering questions. Longing and hopeful when exchanging glances with Grayson. A blush in reference to their relationship. Outright fury masking terror when confronted with the possibility that he might not have full control over his situation. Not even the slightest attempt at charm or smooth-talking to deflect or change subject during difficult questions.

Elijah took a deep breath, and made a decision.

“We need advice from someone with prior connections to the magical community because we find ourselves confronted with a mystery that we cannot solve on our own.” Elijah rested his hands on the table once more. “There is a small, isolated gang that seems to have attracted arcane aggression for reasons unknown, and uncovering those reasons may be the key to freeing a member of theirs who has been in contact with Ryder, and is seeking a way out.” Elijah motioned politely to the man sitting beside him.

A rustle from the corner of the tent caught Elijah’s attention and he turned to see Grayson slipping out a second time, and he had half a moment to wonder why, before the smell of cooking wafted into the tent. Whatever it was, it was freshly baked and probably delicious, and had the unfortunate effect of turning Elijah’s stomach over several times. He turned his head away and held his breath for a moment.

“I’m listening,” said Elliott.

“Um--” Elijah tried, he really did, tried not to show any sign of strain, more out of attempted respect for the magician sitting across from him than anything else, but he found himself raising a closed first to his lips and giving a single, faint cough. He cleared his throat and dropped his hand and refocused through sheer determination after another hard swallow. “Yes. As I was saying. We will make an effort to describe what we saw and heard when we visited the gang’s complex. If you have any insights for us, please interject wherever you feel it is appropriate.”

- - -

Grayson left the tent as soon as Elijah began describing what they’d seen that day. The simmering tension in the room had already put him on edge. He didn’t need to re-live the stress of their recent foray into gang territory.

On the bright side, Bramley seemed to be getting along wonderfully with his friends. He was wearing a big smile, listening attentively to a story Micah was telling as he munched on a slice of fresh pizza. The smell of hot cheese and sausage made Grayson’s mouth water as he approached.

“Hey, Ives!” Kara, who was dusting a plate of fresh donuts with cinnamon sugar, spotted him first. “How are things going in there?”

“Well….” Grayson rubbed a hand through his hair. “The good news is that Elijah has been convinced that Elliott is trustworthy.”

There was a pause.

“That’s awesome.” Micah piped up, smiling but also giving Grayson a sideways look. “But that means there’s bad news too, right?”

“Yeah, the bad news is that it was an intense conversation leading up to that. Elliott got so worked up he accidentally cast a spell.”

Kara looked alarmed. “He didn’t hurt anyone?”

“No, no -- it was just a little puff of air. But I think it really got to poor Elijah.”

Micah’s face fell. He propped his chin in one hand and picked at his slice of pizza with the other, peeling off a pineapple chunk and tossing it in his mouth glumly. “If you could  _ tell _ it got to him, then he must be feeling really bad.” Micah swallowed, frowning more. “He won’t say anything though. Almost never does. I’ll try to get him taken care of once we’re back home.” He stopped and looked back up, blinking at Grayson. “You’re a Null too though, right? You doing okay?”

“I’m actually fine. Being around Elliott doesn’t bother my stomach as much as when I first met him. He told me once that I’d eventually get used to his magic, if we, uh -- spent enough time together.” Grayson hopped up onto a stool. “I’d actually really like a slice of that pizza.”

Bramley passed the plate over so Grayson could grab a slice. “It’s really good,” he said, and then hiccuped softly.

“You don’t say,” said Kara with a laugh. “You’ve been eating pizza almost as fast as I can get it out of the oven! Which you shouldn’t feel shy about,” she added as Bramley blushed. “I consider it a compliment to my cooking.”

Grayson bit into the pizza. It  _ was  _ really good -- not that he’d expected anything less from Kara. “Hey Bram,” he said as he ate. “I’ve been wanting to ask you -- who’s that was that girl we saw the other day?”

Bramley blinked. “Girl?”

“Yeah. The one at the train station. Malia, I think her name was? How do you know her?”

“I told you. She’s a friend I see around there.” He frowned. “Why?”

“Just curious.” Grayson didn’t say it aloud, not wanting to offend or alarm Bramley, but he’d gotten a very… intense vibe from Malia. Like maybe she wanted something from him. “Is she in a gang?”

“Told me once she’s a smuggler.” He shrugged. “She’s nice.” A look of vague concern knitted his brows, relieved a moment later when he brought a hand to his mouth to stifle a soft burp.

Micah laughed companionably. “Hey, maybe you should slow down a little there, big guy.”

“Aww, let him eat!” said Kara. “That gang hasn’t been feeding the poor thing.” She patted Bramley’s big shoulder as she swept around the counter to set down the finished plate of donuts. “As long as there’s enough left for the folks in the tent, you should have as much as you want.”

“Speaking of those folks, I guess I’d better go back in and see how they’re doing,” said Grayson with a sigh. He slid off the stool, snagging one of the still-warm donuts as he went.

Thankfully, things seemed to have settled down in the tent. Grayson’s quiet reentry was met only by brief sidelong glances. The conversation had gone from unpleasant to businesslike, and Elliott and Elijah seemed very focused on the matter at hand.

“So it might not be a matter of determining motives from our limited perspective, but rather, seeking out other sources who may have a broader understanding of the current magical allegiances within the city’s factional landscape,” Elijah was saying.

“I see.” Elliott put a thoughtful hand to his chin. “So what you’re saying is, you invited me here in the hopes that I might have a connection who’d know who might have ordered a magical attack on your friend’s gang?”

Elijah nodded. “Correct. I realize the chances here are slim, but if you have even a slight direction to point us in...”

“In fact, I just might be able to help you.” The mild surprise on Elijah’s face seemed to delight Elliott. He ruffled his feathers, swelling with a sort of pride that bordered on smugness, and for a moment Grayson could easily see the arrogance of his high breeding underneath his weary exterior. “When Ms. Ember took me in, she originally intended to connect me with a group that offers their services as magical mercenaries. It quickly became clear that I... wasn’t a good fit for that profession. And so she helped me break into the alchemy market instead. But I believe my initial contact with that group gives me just enough leverage that I could request a little information from them. Their members generally do other work as well, and it’s in their best interests that I don’t advertise their little side business in the wrong circles.”

Elijah’s expression turned calculating and his brow creased in deep thought. “That seems like adequate leverage, yes.” He paused, as though considering his next words very carefully. “However, if the brief contact you had with them was not lasting in any way, I suspect, to speak with them again, you would have to approach them at the street level rather than through direct channels. Do you know where they station their headquarters? I can imagine that it is not an easy place to access.”

“A good point.” Elliott frowned deeply. “The mercenary group has an arrangement with a nearby gang, trading magical favors for permission to station themselves in gang territory. I know where their headquarters is, but I’m sure I only managed to make it there thanks to Ms. Ember’s presence. If I tried to go alone now, I’d probably be knifed in the throat.” He made a face. “So that might be a slight setback.”

Elijah’s lips actually quirked up a bit. “I suppose it would.” There was barely detectable amusement in his voice. Then he sobered again and asked, “Do you happen to know the name of the gang this organization has established their arrangement with?”

“The... the Jaguars, I think? Or Jackals? Something with a J.”

“The Jackals, I would assume.” Elijah leaned back in his chair and seemed to stifle a sigh. His gaze drifted to a point at the far side of the tent and grew unfocused as he muttered something to himself, “I don’t think Sutherland is monitoring the four-gress exchange, might have to double check…” He trailed off completely.

Ryder glanced at him. “Everything alright?”

“I’m thinking.” Elijah pressed a hand to his bearded chin and kept staring into space.

A long silence followed. Grayson shifted from foot to foot, knowing that since he was the mutual link between Ryder and Elliott, he ought to be the one to break it with something conversational. But nobody had prepared him for what it would like for his sort-of-maybe-hopefully-kinda-boyfriend to be sitting in a room with the man who was like a father to him. He was pretty sure that if he opened his mouth, he’d either say something that would give Ryder the impression that things were more serious than they were, or Elliott the impression that things weren’t serious enough. He wasn’t sure which one he was more afraid of. Truthfully, he wasn’t even sure what the  _ right  _ impression was.

In the end, Ryder saved him from having to speak. “So Elliott, how long have you and Grayson known each other?”

Elliott blinked, looking surprised to be addressed. “I first met him a few months ago. But we didn’t start…” Grayson felt himself squirm as Elliott left a split second’s hesitation “...spending more time together until recently. Maybe a month?”

“It’d be a month next week,” said Grayson without thinking. Then he clamped his mouth shut. Was it weird if he was keeping track? He hoped it wasn’t weird.

“That’s right.” Some kind of expression passed over Elliott’s face, but Grayson couldn’t read it. He  _ could  _ read the sharp suspicion that followed it a moment later. “Why do you want to know?”

“Just wondering.” Ryder’s voice was calm and even as ever. “I was curious how well the two of you might have gotten to know each other. I’m sure a month is long enough for you to have realized what a good heart Grayson has.”

Grayson felt his face go red. Ryder’s compliments were generally few and far between -- what was he doing, flattering him in front of Elliott like this?

“Uh.” Elliott’s eyes darted to Grayson before flicking back to Ryder. “I mean… yes. We get along quite well.”

“I imagine you’ve heard about his rough past,” Ryder went on. “So troubling to think of these things happening to such a good person. Since he’s joined me, it’s been a joy to watch him surround himself with people who have his best interests at heart. As I’m sure you do, of course.”

“ _ Ryder!”  _ Grayson bit his lip too late. Now his mentor was looking at him with a soft question in his eyes. Goddesses, Grayson didn’t even dare to look at Elliott’s face. His own cheeks were on fire.

“Um--” he blustered, “don’t you think we should--?” He glanced wildly around the room for something to save him. His gaze fell on Elijah, who was no longer staring aimlessly at the wall and was instead eyeing Grayson’s blush with his arms folded calmly over his chest and warm amusement in his eyes. So Ryder’s fatherly diversion definitely hadn’t escaped his notice—

“--get back to the plan already!” The words stumbled over each other in their rush to get out of Grayson’s mouth. “ Looks like Elijah’s done thinking. Did you come up with anything that might work, Elijah?”

There was another brief glimmer of mirth in Elijah’s expression before the softness around him faded back to seriousness. He uncrossed his arms and sighed quietly, returning his attention to Elliott.

“I am uncertain how familiar you are with the city’s gangs, but I hold a relatively high rank under Raul Tenner, who has claim over a very large portion of territory.” Elijah began, by way of explanation.

Elliott -- whose cheeks were a deep pink, Grayson noted with a twinge of horror -- immediately turned his full focus to Elijah. He raised an eyebrow, but said nothing. 

Elijah was continuing, “Tenner’s interests and the interests of the Jackals have often run uncomfortably parallel to one another. We have a… very uneasy truce with them, you might say.” Elijah seemed to rethink that, adding, “The sustained tension is often barely tolerated for the sake of mutual profit. However, I am somewhat confident that I could accompany you to a narrow cross-section of the Jackals’ territory, aggressively bluff my way through, and travel with you to the headquarters of these ‘magical mercenaries,’ if you are certain you know the precise location of their base. I am  _ very _ confident that if this attempted gamble were to fail, I would be able to act in defense and return you safely to a point outside the territory.” Elijah paused and leveled a solemn look at Elliott. “If you were willing.”

Under the gloss of Elijah’s vocabulary, Grayson recognized a plan that was walking a thin line in the brutal world of street-level etiquette. Empty threats were always risky, and on top of that, gang leaders didn’t let their underlings invoke their names for just anything. Elijah would either have to call in a favor to make the bluff work, or else hope the tension between the two gangs would prevent Tenner from getting wind of what he was up to. It was a huge risk. But Grayson had seen the focus and intensity of Elijah in action. If anyone could pull this off, he was certain Elijah could.

Elliott seemed to have the same impression. “That plan sounds certifiably insane, but you strike me as the kind of person who could actually do it.” He paused a moment. “Do you think we could pass me off as your fellow gang member? The… circles I used to belong to have their claws in everything. My contacts won’t sell me out, for fear of losing Rhea Ember’s favor, but if the wrong person happens to spot me…”

Elijah nodded agreeably. “That would be fairly simple. Tenner’s operation is vast, to put it lightly. What he does not cover within his immediate circles and close subordinates, he monitors with satellite gangs. I rather severely doubt anyone would question it if we were to refer to you as another of Tenner’s.”

Ryder spoke up. “I’m not sure I like the idea of you walking into den of magicians, Elijah. You’re a Null.”

The faintest hint of exhaustion flickered in Elijah’s eyes before he blinked it away. “While that fact does make the situation less-than-ideal, I do not expect it would reduce my efficacy. Though most of my focus is gang-based, I am not completely unaccustomed to interacting with magicians. Based on previous experiences, I know I am capable of keeping my composure.”

A deep frown creased Ryder’s brow. “That wasn’t quite what I meant...”

He looked like he wanted to say more, but Elliott spoke up first. “When do you want to do this, then?”

Eliah tilted his head contemplatively. “It would likely be helpful to make the attempt as soon as possible, but if you have convenient openings in your schedule, I can make an effort to match them. When are you next available?”

“Honestly, I can go whenever. I don’t exactly have much of a schedule to clear.”

“Today is Friday…” Elijah mused aloud. “I have other commitments to attend to tomorrow and on into Monday morning. I suppose Tuesday would be my most open upcoming day. The two of us could meet here--” He glanced in aside to Ryder and Grayson, “--board the railway, and travel on foot from the station nearest the Jackals’ border. If that sounds agreeable to everyone?”

There was a general nodding of heads.

“Great, that’s settled. So I suppose we’re done here.” Elliott rose from his chair. He took a few quick steps towards the exit before seeming to remember his manners and stopping in his tracks. “Oh, and... it was... nice... to meet all of you.” The words sounded awkward coming out of his mouth, like he wasn’t used to saying them. “I guess I’ll see you soon.” Bare minimum of politeness achieved, he continued his hasty retreat.

As soon as the tent flap fluttered closed behind Elliott, Elijah’s rigid posture loosened and he crossed his arms over the edge of the table, leaning his weight forward, a small motion that carried deep fatigue. But he actually gave Grayson a soft smile when he lifted his head again to look at him.

“I find myself questioning your taste in close companions, Grayson.” Elijah teased gently, his tone making it clear that he wasn’t passing judgement in the slightest. “But I have to admit, he did seem very motivated to make a good impression.” The glimmer in Elijah’s eyes was almost impish.

Grayson sighed and scrubbed a hand over his ears. “He’s not usually that grumpy. Or… well, maybe he is. But he tries.” He glanced towards the exit. “I’d better make sure he’s okay.”

As he made his way out of the tent, he heard Ryder’s quiet voice behind him. “Speaking of which… how are  _ you  _ doing _ , _ Elijah? I’ll make you some tea...”

Grayson found Elliott just outside, looking over to the little group gathered in Kara’s stall like he was unsure of whether he was welcome there. He glanced back at the sound of Grayson’s approach with the barest hint of a smile.

“Hey.” Grayson touched Elliott’s arm. “Thanks for agreeing to help. And sorry that whole conversation turned out to be so stressful.”

“Hmph. No more stressful than the rest of my life.” Elliott leaned into the touch just enough to make Grayson’s heart flutter. “Honestly though. I’m glad I could be useful.”

“We all appreciate it a lot.” Grayson pointed over to Kara’s stall. “You wanna join us for a bit? There’s food -- my friend Kara made it, she’s the best cook in all of Central City. I bet my other friends would love to meet you.”

“Hmm. I could eat.” Elliott frowned slightly. “I don’t know how much I want to socialize though. This is the farthest I’ve crawled out from under my rock in months.”

“That’s okay.” Grayson patted his shoulder. “Kara and Micah talk enough for all of us put together.”

“Sounds perfect.” In a sudden smooth movement, Elliott reached up and took the hand that Grayson had put on his shoulder. His fingers were cold and a little bit clammy, but somehow their touch still made Grayson feel wonderfully warm. He felt a big stupid grin slide onto his face.

Despite all the demands he’d just made of Elliott -- despite the painful reminders of his past, and Ryder’s probing questions, and the dangerous mission Grayson had just gotten him roped into -- apparently Elliott still liked him. Which seemed crazy. The whole thing had felt crazy from the start. A Null and a magician, a feliken and an avesian, two people from very different circles of the underground world. It shouldn’t work... but maybe it was working? Grayson could feel it in the soft pressure of Elliott’s fingertips. Maybe it was working.

A peal of laughter brought him back down to earth as the two of them entered the stall. Kara was chuckling as she leaned over her chair, one hand on Bramley’s shoulder. On the other side of the counter, Micah was wearing his own amused grin.

“What’s going on here?” Grayson asked as he pulled up two more stools.

“Somebody ate a little too much.” Kara gave Bramley’s shoulder another solid pat, and Grayson noticed the way his friend was slumped back in his chair, hiccuping softly and looking rather dazed.

Micah had stopped to give Elliott a welcoming wave and a huge grin before he turned back to the scene in front of him. “Tried to tell him to slow down.” Micah nodded at Bramley with another warm smile. “Can’t blame ya, though.”

“Neither can I,” said Grayson sympathetically. “I did the same thing when I first got out of the gangs. It’s hard to control yourself when you finally have enough to eat. Especially when you get your hands on something as good as Kara’s cooking.” He grabbed a couple slices of pizza for himself and took a bit bite, humming in satisfaction at the taste of hot sausage. “You’re not in pain or anything though, are you, Bram?”

Bramley shook his head. “I’m okay. Just --  _ hic  _ \-- really full.” 

“Goddesses, and here I thought Elijah was the only one who does stuff like this.” Micah snickered, sliding off his stool and dragging it with him to the other side of the counter where Bramley was sitting. He hopped back onto the seat once he’d positioned it an arms-length away, then stretched out a hand invitingly. “You want a tummy rub? It really helps.” Without waiting for an answer, Micah cheerfully plopped his hand down over the curve of Bramley’s swollen stomach and rubbed a broad circle.

Kara burst out laughing. “ _ What  _ are you  _ doing?” _

Micah rolled his eyes with a smirk. “What’s it look like I’m doing? Nothing feels better than a tummy rub after you’ve eaten too much.” He seemed content to ignore the stunned blush on Bramley’s cheeks as he patted comfortingly at the firm swell of his new friend’s belly. “Elijah’s better at it than me, though.”

“You’ve got to be kidding.” Kara was nearly falling out of her chair with giggles. “Does it  _ really  _ feel that good? What do you say, Bram?”

“Um…” Bramley hesitated, his cheeks growing even pinker. “It’s not --  _ hic _ \-- bad.”

Micah giggled. “Glad I’m not hurting your tummy, at least.” He rubbed another circle over Bramley’s middle and looked at Kara almost smugly. “I swear though, Elijah’s fantastic at it. When he gets in here you’ll see what I mean.” The sound of footsteps turned Micah’s head, then he grinned. “Speak of the bastard…”

Ryder and Elijah were making their way over to Kara’s stall from the tent, Elijah with a steaming mug in one hand and a tired look around his eyes, followed and watched closely by Ryder. Elijah glanced up as he stepped into the circle of friends gathered around, looking apprehensive to have so much attention suddenly focused on him. Then he took in the scene, and raised a hand to rub at his brow in slight disbelief. “Micah…  _ what _ are you doing?”

Kara pointed at him triumphantly. “That’s exactly what I said!” 

“Just get over here and rub, you dumbass.” Micah growled, hopping up again, clearly expecting Elijah to come sit.

With a long-suffering sigh, Elijah came closer, taking a swallow from his mug before setting it down on the counter. He sank down onto the stool next to Bramley and gave him a look of mixed apology and sympathy. “Would it be alright if I attempted to help?”

Bramley’s blush grew even deeper, but he shifted in his seat to turn his full belly towards Elijah. “Sure.”

Elijah smiled at him reassuringly, then lifted a hand and placed it over the rounded curve of Bramley’s middle. He began to brush his fingers in a comforting pattern, a look of contemplation on his face as he felt around, then he pressed in, working his fingertips down Bramley’s side, under his ribs. He followed the motion by circling his thumb over Bramley’s upper belly.

Bramley let out a long soft sigh, and seemed to melt under Elijah’s touch. His eyelids drooped into a contented squint before closing entirely.

Elijah’s smile grew even warmer as he kept rubbing, his big palm smoothing over the front of Bramley’s swollen stomach from ribs to hip bones soothingly. He alternated the broad strokes with careful kneading motions, which seemed to calm Bramley’s hiccups and coax out a few soft burps. Eventually Elijah appeared to have massaged out all the tight places and settled with rubbing wide, warm circles, relaxing and repetitive. Bramley was all but slumped against him, looking utterly content.

Micah beamed triumphantly at Kara. “Told you so.”

“Well, what do you know.” Kara shook her head, grinning. “He  _ does  _ look pretty comfy. I still don’t know if I’m convinced, though.”

“What more proof do you need?” Micah gestured incredulously, laughing as he did so. “Not even  _ medicine _ works that fast!”

Grayson chuckled at his bickering friends -- and then let out a little groan as his own belly cramped slightly. All too suddenly, he realized how stuffed he felt, stomach pressing heavily against the fabric of his shirt. So much had happened that he’d lost track of how much he’d snacked. Clearly he shouldn’t have eaten those last two slices of pizza…

As Micah and Kara drew most of the room’s attention with their good-natured snarking, Elijah very gently maneuvered Bramley to lean into the nook where the wall and counter met, making sure he was comfortable and wouldn’t tilt over in his half-asleep state. Elijah then slipped off to the side, tugging a chair over near Grayson instead of Micah for some reason.

Before Grayson could ask what he’d come over there for, Elijah had sat down and wound a big, sheltering arm around him. He tucked his other hand over Grayson’s belly and smiled softly down at him, lowering his voice to a quiet murmur to say, “Maybe I can help?” He started to rub, pressing and kneading in with his fingers against Grayson’s sides first, before smoothing more comforting circles over the sore places. He stroked a thumb beneath Grayson’s ribs where his stomach felt most tight, then worked the heel of his hand against a tense muscle that almost immediately relaxed, bringing relief.

“Mmm, that feels good...” Grayson squirmed contentedly under the soothing touch. Then he frowned as his sensitive ears picked up a low gurgle curling through Elijah’s belly. “I hope  _ your _ stomach settles soon. Sorry about that incident with Elliott earlier. I didn’t think he’d cast.”

Elijah grimaced very faintly -- betraying his otherwise well-hidden discomfort -- but gave a soft shake of his head. “I am not upset with Elliott.” He assured Grayson. “It was a stressful conversation and I know he did not intend for that to happen.”

“I’m glad.” Grayson’s gaze flitted over to where Elliott was seated a few feet away, chewing impassively on a cinnamon donut. Even with how quietly Elijah had spoken, Grayson knew that his sharp avesian hearing would have picked that up.

He leaned a little closer against Elijah’s side. “Thanks, by the way. For sticking your neck out so much to help get Bram safe.”

Elijah looked a little surprised that Grayson had seen through his careful masking of the risks he was taking. He sighed quietly and looked over to where Bramley was still half-dozing, his chin propped in his hand on the counter and his other arm folded comfortably over his full belly.

“Of course.” Elijah said when he looked back to Grayson, rubbing another soothing circle over his stomach with a soft pressure. “I have seen a lot of young people who did not truly want to be in the gangs lose their lives before they regained their freedom. I have almost always been helpless to do much. But being able to work with you and Ryder to hopefully alleviate Bramley’s situation is a privilege I never quite imagined I would get.”

“That’s a nice way to think of it.” Grayson sighed softly as Elijah’s hand circled the tightest part of his stomach. “Still. Don’t know what we’d be doing without you.”

Elijah made some kind of soft, decidedly happy sound, low in his throat. He hugged Grayson a little closer. Cozy and comfortable, Grayson felt his eyes slowly drift shut. He listened to the low buzz of conversation and laughter around him and thought -- how wonderful it was, to doze in the arms of a friend, with a belly full of good food and so many people he loved close by.

**Author's Note:**

> The two of us have launched a crossover blog for our collaborative AU stories! Come check us out on tumblr at tinymyx.


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